


The Skull On The Mantelpiece

by afghanistanorgallifrey (bigblueboxat221b), whitehart



Category: Doctor Who, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Developing Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Eventual Smut, First Time, Friendship, Gay Male Character, Hurt Sherlock, Jealous Sherlock, M/M, Time Travel, Wedding Night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-11
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-11-12 17:48:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 22,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11166933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigblueboxat221b/pseuds/afghanistanorgallifrey, https://archiveofourown.org/users/whitehart/pseuds/whitehart
Summary: An alternate universe where Doctor Who exists in Sherlock Holmes and John Watson's universe.The skull on Sherlock's mantelpiece belongs to the most important person in his life. It was given to him by The Doctor when they travelled 1,000 years into the future. It has kept him sane since, but when he met this person, it turned his life inside out. What would Sherlock NOT do to keep this person by his side forever?Warning: There will be loads of spacey-wacey timey-wimey instances. I would personally not recommend speed reading on this book.Based on a Tumblr prompt by http://dangling-thpider.tumblr.com





	1. Geronimo!

**Author's Note:**

> This story is complete up till Chapter 7! From Chapter 8 onwards are John and Sherlock's individual adventures with The Doctor, or flashbacks of Sherlock's previous adventure with The Doctor. If you have an idea/prompt you'd like to see come to life, leave a comment! xx WH

“The bride and groom are not supposed to see each other the night before the wedding!”

Sherlock tuned into the conversation between Mary and John across the table just in time to hear that last sentence coming out of John towards Mary.

“Sherlock, would it be alright if I used my old bedroom for the night?”  
“It is still yours.”  
“Great. I’ll see you tonight then. It will just be like old times...”

Sherlock tuned out, once again retreating into his mind palace, leaving his lunch untouched on the table while Mary and John discussed the wedding and their future together. Sherlock started recalling the days he spent with John, remembering every detail in the lab where he first met John. He frowned when his recollection arrived on the day he jumped off the roof of St Bart’s. He came back to see John with a woman - this woman sitting across the table. She has John now, although Sherlock knows John loves his high-functioning sociopath best man just as much. Would everything be different if Sherlock didn’t have to leap off the roof? Could it have been him sitting next to John planning the wedding, a Watson-Holmes wedding?

 

“Sherlock, are you listening? Look at him John, is he always this occupied? It’s fascinating! Does he always stare at you like that, John?” Mary’s eyes had lit up in excitement, glancing back and forth between John and Sherlock.

“Yes I always do. John is pleasant to look at.” Sherlock was feeling a little uncomfortable, getting caught staring at John. It wasn’t the first time, but John used to stare back until Sherlock comes out of his mind palace, and they would laugh at each other until it was time to have a cup of tea. “Sorry, I must go. Excuse me.” Gently he pushed his chair back and stood up, taking a few steps away from the table. Without turning back, he said goodbye to John and promised he will clean up before John’s arrival tonight.

He spent most of the afternoon cleaning the flat. “I should do it for John. He will be pleased.” He cleared out most of his experiments on the kitchen table, washed out his mold cultures from the kettle, tidied up the books and pieces of paper scattered all over the floor, asked Mrs. Hudson nicely for fresh sheets and laid it out for John in his bedroom upstairs. As he was leaving John’s bedroom, the red chair with the plaid blanket on top caught his eye. Without thinking twice, Sherlock started shifting it out of the room, gently pulling it down the stairs and set it next to the fireplace where John used to sit.

 

Exhausted and slouching on the sofa, both arms laid on his side with palms facing the ceiling, he tilted his chin up and locked his eyes on the skull, on those hollow eye sockets. Sherlock remembered how he used to have a conversation with it, as if it could really hear him. Suddenly, he found himself having a conversation with the skull in his head...

_“Hello old friend. Remember me? I remember you. You remember The Doctor? He said you’d be the most important person in my life. We were right outside a thousand year old church where The Doctor found you laying on the ground with everything else around you destroyed. You were the only one left. Had a good life, it seems. The Doctor told me I would find you soon but I was skeptical as always, not until I saw the same facial structure in Bart’s lab, standing at the door and staring me in the face, John Watson.”_

“Sherlock!” Sherlock heard the front door slammed with a kick. _It’s John. Both his hands must be full. It’s only one night…_ Sherlock stood up from the sofa, straightening out his shirt while waiting for John to reach the top of the stairs.

“So, what’s the plan?” John had three bags of groceries in his arms up against his chest, his bag over his shoulder and three fingers on his right hand desperately holding onto the hanger with his tuxedo very close to brushing the floor. John walked towards his chair, fingers straightened out, letting go of the hanger with the tuxedo, laying it out on the armrest. John flexed his three fingers to get some blood flow while he walked over to the kitchen table, setting down the groceries on the table, and dropped his bag from his shoulder onto the floor. “Mary was shopping and she got you some eggs, tea, milk, crackers…” John paused with his left hand holding a carton of milk and the other still in the bag, fishing for the box of tea. He could feel Sherlock looming over behind him.

“John, thank you,” was all Sherlock could manage without breaking down. He stayed composed as he took big steps towards the bathroom and locked himself in it, sliding down, hugging his knees with his back against the door. _He is your best friend. Get over it._ _Breathe Sherlock, breathe!_ He took a deep breath, [inhale and exhale], found his composure, and slowly exited the bathroom when he heard the kettle whistling.

“Tea?” John pushed a mug over the kitchen table – _just like old times_. They spent the rest of the evening catching John up on a cold case Lestrade had given to Sherlock two days ago when John was busy with wedding matters.

 

As the evening went by, John excused himself to bed while Sherlock was in his mind palace thinking about the case. When he realized John had gone to sleep, his eyes started wandering around the once again empty room. He found his gaze lingered on John’s tux hanging on the side of the mantelpiece, and within his peripheral vision, his old friend before John, before the flesh-and-blood John Watson. His gaze fixed on the skull while his inner thoughts repeatedly reminded him of John’s affection towards Mary, not him. He started considering  the possibility of creating his own John. After all, an abundance of John’s DNA was sitting on top of the fireplace. _“Ah! Mycroft should be able to give me some lab hours in Dartmoor in exchange for a few favors…”_

Eventually he was lost in his own mind, slowly drifting into slumber.

\\\

_The Doctor stumbles back into the TARDIS, clinging onto a black velvet cloth with something spherical underneath it. Not knowing what it was, Sherlock jumped out of his seat under the deck and skipped towards The Doctor._

_"What is it Doctor?" Sherlock asked as his right hand reached out towards The Doctor's palms._

_"For you. This will keep you company until you both meet." The Doctor said with a sweet smile._

_Sherlock peeled away the velvet covering the object, revealing a skull. He held it delicately and immediately began examining it. "Who is- was it?"_

_"You will see. No spoilers, as River would say. Keep him-," The Doctor paused. Sherlock wasn't paying much attention to The Doctor's words, but his mind immediately registered the pronoun and has narrowed down his suspects to half the population._

_"Just keep him safe. You will appreciate it soon enough. He will be the most important person you will ever meet." The Doctor turned away, preparing to take Sherlock back home._

_//_

Sherlock shot up from the floor, wasted no time at all and immediately went into his mind palace, searching for the room labelled **< The Doctor>. **Took him longer than he wanted, but 4 seconds was still commendable given that it was 9 years ago and 23 time-traveling days that didn't belong anywhere. He opened the door in full swing and found himself standing in the library of the TARDIS. Hurriedly he walked past shelves, touching every book he saw. Upon finding a phone number, he left his mind palace, held up his mobile and dialed the number. Sherlock found himself on his feet, pacing the living room, avoiding piles of paper and case files as he maneuvered back and forth...

 

 ** _Click_ **  

"Oh, hello, Sherlock Holmes! To what do I owe the pleasure?"  
"Hello Doctor." Sherlock greeted The Doctor, trying to hide his shaking voice by forcing a smile on his face.  
"Oh my, you don't sound happy to hear my voice- wait, you called me- I'm not sure anymore. Time travel does that to you!"  
"Need your help, Doctor." Sherlock was suppressing his emotions. He could feel a deep well in his stomach throwing waves within.  
"Sure, I'll be there in no time… Glad you called. Look out your window!"  
Sherlock leapt across the room, knocking over a tower of notes and saw the familiar blue police box standing proud, parked right in front of 221B Baker Street.

Quietly, Sherlock walked down the stairs and opened the door with The Doctor standing right in front of him. So many good memories of great adventures flowed through Sherlock’s mind in that instance.

“Doctor. Pleased to see you again. You look well.”  
“I hope you have fish fingers and custard!”

Sherlock and The Doctor made their way into the kitchen. While Sherlock tried to make custard with milk, sugar and egg yolks, The Doctor told him stories of his latest adventures with Clara.

“So, what seems to be the problem?” The Doctor asked after ending his second story.

“I found him, Doctor. And he is getting married tomorrow.” Sherlock is now over the stove with a pot of yellow-ish liquid on the heat, with his back facing The Doctor.

“Congratulations! Is this the wedding invitation? I am so happy for you! Are you going to wear a bow tie? Bow ties are cool. You will look great in it. Have you got a pictur-” The Doctor stopped rambling when he noticed Sherlock’s shoulders heaving, and a sob sent shivers down his back, echoing in the quiet night of 221B Baker Street.

“I’m not the groom, or the ‘bride’, Doctor. I wish I am.” Sherlock turned around facing The Doctor, leaving the pot of liquid simmering over low heat on the stove. “I don’t even mind being the bride, in a dress, as long as John stays. Doctor, help me, please.” Tears were flowing steadily down Sherlock’s cheek as he plead. He never begs, but he will for John.

"It doesn't work that way Sherlock. Remember what I told you? We are observers only. That’s the one rule I’ve always stuck to in all my travels, and anyone with me follows." The Doctor looks at Sherlock sternly.

Sherlock let out a deep sigh, lifted his head and forced a smile towards The Doctor. His tears are now heavy, falling off his chin in heavy droplets, and his voice cracked. “Unless there’s children crying?”

Trying not to laugh, The Doctor grinned awkwardly. "Sherlock, you will always be a child to me. I’m 900… and some years!” The Doctor paused for a moment, and an imaginary light bulb lights up above his head. “Oh, you knew I would say that. You ARE clever!” Sherlock now has a weak smile on his face, knowing that he has won the first battle in his war with time.

The Doctor took a deep breath before he continued, “there are fixed points through time where things must always stay the way they are. Your little stunt few years ago was one of them. However, with what happened after, there were opportunities for you to change future events, creating your own timeline, your own reality. You’ve seen how it turned out now, but we will never know what could be different if you made a different choice. We will never find out until it happens, and it may not be what you hoped for. Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Doctor, he is the most important person I’ve known in my life, and I am about to lose him. He is the one person I want to cherish, hold close and love. I’m willing to take the risk, Doctor. I will accept the consequences to my actions.” Sherlock was determined to win the war. He will not let anything or anyone take John away from his life, not even for one second. John is his, and his to love for the rest of his life.

 

Sherlock was just about to turn around and finish making that custard when The Doctor stood up from his stool.

“Right, then. This won’t be easy but I think you will make it a good one. Come along, Holmes!" 

Sherlock flashed up a smile towards The Doctor. Sherlock left the pot of unfinished custard on the stove and turned off the heat. They ran down the stairs towards the TARDIS. The Doctor unlocked the door, and walked in ahead of Sherlock. The Doctor walked towards the center, pulled a few levers, pressing a few buttons, looked over to Sherlock still standing by the door.

 

“Ready Sherlock?”

Sherlock took a huge step into the TARDIS and shuts the door behind him. “Geronimo.”


	2. First Stop: At The Lab

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 9 years ago, The Doctor never gave him the name he so desperately wanted, but Sherlock knew with his next words, that this man standing a few steps away from him was the one he was searching for. The Doctor is now a witness to John Watson and Sherlock Holmes’ first meeting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> During time travel:  
> #1: Mobile phones with the same number works as long as they are in the right location.  
> #2: TARDIS adjusts all date and time of your devices (digital or analog) to the date & time of your location.  
> 

“Wher- _when_ are we?” Sherlock asked cautiously. The Doctor was doing something to the controls of the TARDIS, frowning at the flickering screen.

“Well, that’s a very good question. We’re sometime around when you met John, but I can’t really be sure.” The Doctor replied. Seeing the look of alarm on Sherlock’s face, he added hastily, “Don’t worry, the old girl always takes me where I need to go!” Cautiously, The Doctor opened the door of the TARDIS and tasted the air experimentally.

“Right, we’re in the middle of Postman’s Park, 29th January, 2010, sometime in the morning… I’m getting a little rusty. Looks like time is catching up to me!” Turning back to Sherlock, he spread his arms in a ‘see, aren’t I brilliant’ action.

“That’s...that’s the day I met John.” Sherlock almost whispered.  
“Well come on then, Holmes, let’s do it!”

As Sherlock made to walk past The Doctor and out into London, The Doctor put one hand on his arm. “You do have a plan?”  
Sherlock’s mouth tilted up in a lopsided grin. “The game is on!” The Doctor grinned in reply and the two men strode out into the city.

Walking closer to Bart’s, Sherlock saw his old self strutting down the street, away from the building.  
“I was supposed to be in there, whipping a corpse with Molly…” A train of thoughts hit Sherlock right in his face, shattering his body with pulses.

 _"If I’m not in there, Mike would not know that I was looking for a room mate, and I would’ve never met John!”_ Sherlock paced back and forth.

“No. No no no. This is not happening.” Sherlock pulled out his mobile and looked at the time - **1 hour and 53 minutes** before John walks into the lab. He then looked to his right and realize The Doctor was already walking towards Bart’s. Sherlock followed, lengthening his stride with each step, trying to catch up to The Doctor.

“Well, this is where you met him. Such a downer! I was hoping you found him in a nice field of flowers under the moon… or that church we found him in.” The Doctor said as he walked down the corridor with Sherlock right on his tail.

“I need to find Molly.” Sherlock stated, obviously with a plan in mind, and The Doctor did not say another word as he let Sherlock walk past him.

 

“Sherlock, you’re not supposed to be here. I told you no! Greg wouldn’t be too happy if he knew you came back.” Molly took a quick glance up from her clipboard and realized Sherlock was not alone… and he was _older_?

“Molly Hooper, I assume, I’ve heard, well, nothing ‘bout you really, but I’m sure you’re excellent.” The Doctor was all charm, sweeping a low bow as he spoke. Molly looked flattered and confused at the same time, eyes darting from The Doctor to Sherlock and back. “You’re in different clothes, Sherlock.” She examined him more closely, her eyes going wide then narrowing in confusion. “Your hair is different, and...have you done something to your eyes?” Sherlock waved one hand impatiently at her questioning, but she continued to stutter along until he raised his voice a little, riding over her protestations.

“I wasn’t really listening earlier, what was it I did that prompted Graham to ask me to leave?” He looked around the lab as he spoke, apparently distracted but really hiding the desperation he’s feeling. He only had one shot to get this right.

“Did you delete it already?” Molly drew a long sigh, pursed her lips and explained how Sherlock was being a jerk and Greg had enough of Sherlock getting his name wrong. Apparently Greg’s wife was cheating on him with a man named Graham, and Sherlock tipped him over the edge this time. Though she was answering Sherlock, Molly’s attention was fixed on The Doctor.

“I need a favour.” Sherlock said with a deep hum in his throat. Molly was still staring at The Doctor when Sherlock walked up between them and swiftly pulled a hair out of The Doctor’s head.  
“Ow! Holmes!” The Doctor yelped.

“This should do the trick.” He shot a look at The Doctor to be quiet then tilted his head towards Molly. “Please take a look at this and give it to me when I come back next time. Thank you Molly. Doctor, it's time.” Sherlock walked towards the door and left Molly behind holding a strand of curly dark hair, confused. The Doctor bowed gently and left with Sherlock. 

 

“Are you going to fill me in on your plan?” The Doctor asked while he was still rubbing a tender spot where Sherlock pulled his hair.

“If I had let myself go back without a reason to be in the lab, I will never have met John. You're alien. Your DNA sequence will be a very good reason for me to run off to the lab.” Sherlock continued to fill The Doctor in with the events of the day and The Doctor knew exactly what they needed. Sherlock agreed with The Doctor’s plan and looked at his mobile for the time - **1 hour and 12 minutes** before John will walk into the lab.

 

The Doctor was looking for John. He knew John’s scent from his visit to Baker Street. Tilting his head up, The Doctor started sniffing in all directions. “Ah! This way!” He found the scent he was looking for, and paced quickly towards it, sniffing and walking as if he was a hound tracking down prey. A few minutes later, he found himself walking towards a bench in the park. There, he saw John with someone, having a quiet but stern conversation. The Doctor wasted no time, and moved towards them.

“Hello!” The Doctor stood in front of John with his hands behind his back.

“Who are you?” John looked up and frowned.

“I’m The Doctor. Pleased to meet you, John Watson. And you must be Mike. Heard a lot about you.”

“How did you- Doctor who?” John asked suspiciously. “You have a name?”

The Doctor glanced around the park and saw someone walking by with a coffee labelled ‘ _Café Basil Coffee Shop’_.

“Basil.” He replied. John wasn’t convinced, but accepted it by reaching his hand out for a handshake.

“That’s a weird name.” John said as The Doctor shook his hand with a firm grip.

“Not as weird as Sherlock Holmes.” The Doctor looked over to Mike and gave him a smile.

“Ah! Sherlock. Eccentric fella!” Mike looked over at John. “Sherlock is a consultant for New Scotland Yard. He comes to my lab sometimes to run some experiments. Weird guy, but I’ve known him long enough to know he means no harm.”

“Speaking of Sherlock, he’s looking for a roommate.” The Doctor promptly added.

“Is he now? Well, John here is looking for one too! What a coincidence!” Mike said.

“But how did you know my name, Doctor _Basil_?” John asked with extra emphasis on The Doctor’s ‘name’.

“Because I’m The Doctor!” He said and winked at John.

John blushed a little, thinking The Doctor was flirting with him, and maybe even stalking him? For the first time in months, John felt good about himself. Someone was interested in him, and an attractive man too. John didn’t mind the awkwardness between them, or that he was a man. He had his fair share of same-sex encounters during his tour in Afghanistan. Besides, The Doctor was exactly his type - tall, lanky and brunette, someone you don’t find in the Army a lot...

“I’ll introduce Sherlock to you. I think he’s still at Bart’s. You should come by and see some of our old friends, eh John? We all missed having you around!” Mike said, distracting John from thinking about The Doctor’s behavior.

“John, Mike, I’ll see you shortly. Gotta run!” The Doctor turned on his heel and paced away from the bench. His part of the plan done, it’s now up to Sherlock to make it happen.

 

While The Doctor was busy with John and Mike, Sherlock found his old self walking into Boots. He was going to get some extra supplies for his other experiment now that he’s kicked out of Bart’s for the day. Sherlock shadowed himself, keeping a good distance between them, observing his younger self pulling items off the shelf, into a basket full of syringes and bottles. 8 minutes later, Sherlock saw himself at the counter, paying for the items and heading away from Bart’s. Almost on instinct, Sherlock pulled out his mobile and called the one person who will help get him back into Bart’s - Lestrade.

“Mr. Holmes, what do you want now?” Lestrade spat over the phone. He is obviously still pissed with Sherlock.

“Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade. I would like to make you an offer. I will solve 10 cases of your choice in exchange for Bart’s access today.” Sherlock knew Lestrade wouldn’t be able to resist the offer after getting his name right, but he certainly did not make it easy for Sherlock. After a few moments of negotiation, they both agree to 16 cases of the DI’s choice and a written apology from Sherlock with a promise to remember his name correctly from now on - Gregory Lestrade. Sherlock knew his old self wouldn’t remember that name, but he made it a point to frame a picture of Lestrade with his name carved on the edge of the frame, and hung it on his mind palace corridor.

47 seconds later, he heard a chime on his phone and it was a text from Molly - ‘ _Greg said you can come back. Interesting DNA in the lab, come look. It’s definitely a 10.’_ He looked up from his mobile and saw himself hailing a taxi. Sherlock knew himself too well to doubt where he was heading. As he walked back towards Bart’s, he checked his mobile for the time again - **15 minutes and 49 seconds** before John walks into the lab.

 

The Doctor was already in the lab sitting on the table next to Molly when Sherlock walked in. The Doctor noticed this Sherlock was in different clothes and definitely younger. Molly frowned a little but did not comment, returning to her microscope as The Doctor greeted Sherlock warmly.

“It’s Holmes! It’s been awhile, my scrumptious little beauty!” The Doctor adjusted his bow tie while sliding off the table, opening his arms inviting Sherlock for a hug.

“Doctor? Oh Doctor. It is you! Oh this is lovely. This is really lovely! And here I thought it was going to be a boring day!” A large grin was on his face as he threw himself into The Doctor’s open arms.

“Yes yes yes. Still the same mad man with a box. A different box though. Actually the same box, but different. Ah come on, much to tell you, but not now. Let’s keep it for another time. Won’t be long now.”

Before Sherlock could say another word, the door to the lab clicked open. Sherlock instinctively turn his head around and saw Mike walking in with someone else - a very familiar face… no, a very familiar bone structure. He first noticed the zygomatic bones, slightly lower on the left, then the maxilla, mandible, frontal, temporal (slightly obstructed by his hair) and stared into his nasal bone. The man twitched his face, a subconscious behaviour indicating his discomfort with Sherlock’s stares. Sherlock turned his head back around facing The Doctor, and with his eyes wide open, The Doctor nodded. In all of Sherlock’s life, only two people he knows had the capability of communicating with him via micro expressions and cues - Mycroft Holmes and The Doctor.

“Afghanistan or Iraq?” Sherlock blurted out without sounding like a deer caught in the headlights. He was excited, surprised, nervous and all of the above. Sherlock’s speech centre was now on auto pilot. Still trying to digest the current situation, he stored the conversation in his mind palace for further analysis later.

9 years ago, The Doctor never gave him the name he so desperately wanted, but Sherlock knew with his next words, that this man standing a few steps away from him was the one he was searching for. The Doctor is now a witness to John Watson and Sherlock Holmes’ first meeting. 

"The name is Sherlock Holmes, and the address is 221B Baker Street." He winked, turned around and left.

"Wouldn't want the entire universe pointing their galactic doomsday devices for a piece of me eh?" The Doctor acknowledged John and Mike as he took his hair specimen sitting on the table.

 

As they were walking down the hallway towards the mortuary, Sherlock couldn't help but grin - turning into a chuckle in a matter of seconds.

“Thank you, Doctor. He is amazing.”

“You are most welcome. I will see you again very soon, Holmes.” Sherlock gave The Doctor a gentle nod, and The Doctor swiftly left Bart’s and back into the TARDIS. Upon stepping in, he found future-Sherlock sitting next to the blue buttons of the TARDIS, deep in his mind palace. 

Sherlock noticed something has changed. He went into his mind palace and noticed some memories are different. The Doctor is now a part of it. Everything else is still intact. In fact, he still has memories of his first actual meeting with John. Now he has two copies of the same event. _“Maybe I should ask The Doctor what happens to the old one…”_

“Doctor, what do I do with it?” The Doctor knew it had something to do with Sherlock’s memories.

“Why do you remember them, you mean?”

Sherlock nodded.

“You're a time traveler now. Sherlock. It changes the way you see the universe, forever. Good, isn't it? Besides, you can delete whichever you don't want. This ‘mind palace’ thing. You have to teach me that some time, eh?”

Without saying another word, Sherlock nodded and went back into his mind palace. He has a decision to make...

_So does The Doctor. The last time he fiddled with the past, he had to blow up the entire known universe to fix it. Let’s hope it would be less complicated this time._

 

The next day, Sherlock found himself in the presence of Doctor John Watson, the man he was destined to find, _the most important person he will ever meet._ They were standing in the middle of 221B Baker Street.

"It's a skull." John stared at it long enough to make himself acquainted, however finding it familiar. He has seen an x-ray and scans of his own skull before, but not enough for him to recognize it in his own hands.

"Friend of mine. When I say 'friend'..." Sherlock found himself tongue-tied for the first time. As much as he would love to tell John about his skull from a thousand years in the future, he thought it might be best to keep it to himself for now.

"I talk to it. Helps me think."


	3. Second Stop: Dartmoor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Personal relationships are not my forte. I am not accustomed to any level of intimacy with another person. Knowing what is and what is not within the normal parameters stretches my experience, John. I know what I feel, but I have no basis for comparison. I can only…try.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> During time travel:  
> #1: Mobile phones with the same number works as long as they are in the right location.  
> #2: TARDIS adjusts all date and time of your devices (digital or analog) to the date & time of your location.  
> 

The Doctor and Sherlock spent 12 hours wandering around the TARDIS. The Doctor excitedly showed Sherlock around the new library, a seventh squash court, a few additional swimming pools and the pride of The Doctor, a brand new theatre - The Doctor once watched David Attenborough’s Planet Earth on BBC One with Amy, Craig and Sophie while taking a break from time travelling, then found himself building a theatre the next day in the TARDIS.

“You will need a room, Holmes. You can take whichever you want and _use your brain_.” Sherlock knew what The Doctor meant. He chose the new squash court, and The Doctor left him alone to build his own room (by thinking about it - TARDIS builds the room for you). It wasn’t an easy task. Sherlock was getting exhausted after 4 hours as if he was physically rebuilding the room with his own two hands. Also, The Doctor’s no smoking rule in the TARDIS and he’d left his nicotine patches back at the flat. He needs some adrenaline, now.

 

Walking towards the console room, he heard The Doctor mumbling to himself.

“U-M-Q-R-A. U-M-Q-R-A. U-M-Q-R-A...” The Doctor chanted.

“What did you say Doctor? Say that again!” Sherlock quickly got up on both his feet and paced towards The Doctor.

The Doctor turned the flickering screen around towards Sherlock and showed him the letters floating on the screen.

“This was most certainly about that week in Baskerville. Never really figured out what that meant. John was quite sure it was someone flashing a morse code from the other side of the hill.”

“Maybe we should go and see what was that about?” The Doctor’s suggestion was received by a frantic nod from Sherlock. He was excited to see John again. The Doctor pulled a lever, and the TARDIS took them to where they needed to be.

* * *

 

“Dartmoor, 10th March, 2011.” The Doctor confirmed, stepping out into the mild day. He raised his eyebrows at Sherlock, who nodded, following him out and looking around. They had landed at the back of the pub where he and John had stayed while investigating the Hounds of Baskerville. It was mid-afternoon, the day overcast but not rainy.

“So what’s your plan, Sherlock?” The Doctor asked. He’d taken a bigger role than he’d realised in their previous stop; John would recognise him now, though, so perhaps Sherlock would prefer him to remain unseen this time.

“John and I had an argument here.” Sherlock replied, still getting used to the time hopping. It was 2011. Bizarre. “If I can speak to him I’m hoping he will think of my outburst differently.”

“Okay.” The Doctor was cautious.

Sherlock sighed. “I don’t want to avoid the fight all together – it needed to happen, I think, and it lead to a breakthrough in the case. Plus, I don’t want to change anything I don’t have to.” The Doctor gave what he interpreted as an approving nod.

“John will walk out of there this evening at around 10.15pm. If I can talk to him, give him some insight into me that he doesn’t have yet,” Sherlock shrugged. “I don’t expect he would jump on me right away, but it may help him to see me in a different light.” He looked at his watch. “A few hours still to go. Probably best I stay out of sight.” Breathing in the clean air once more, he returned to the TARDIS to wait for his moment.

* * *

Hours later, Sherlock waited for John in the cold night air. He remembered seeing John pass the stairs that night; he’d hidden inside the pub, eavesdropping on John’s conversation with Louise Mortimer before retiring. Now, he sat on one of the picnic tables outside the pub, waiting on John. He found that his heart was thumping a little; this was his chance to explain to John why he behaved as he did; to elicit a more sympathetic perspective from here on.

“Hello, John.” He spoke as soon as John stepped outside.

John, who had walked outside with a decidedly military air, stopped dead, waiting. Louise had just walked off on him when she realised he was investigating Henry Knight, Sherlock remembered.

“I’m not like other people, John.” The table Sherlock had picked was deep in shadow; he knew John would recognise his voice, and he did need to disguise his aged appearance somewhat.

John snorted, recognising the voice. Sherlock waited, but John neither walked away nor spoke.

“I’ve not had the same experiences as other men my age. It changes the way I see the world. Sometimes that is to my advantage. Other times it is not.”

Finally, John spoke, his voice sceptical. “And this is one of those times?”

“Precisely.”

There was a long pause, the murmurs from inside the pub swirling around them.

“The problem with sensory input is that is can be so often subjective.” Sherlock explained carefully. “This afternoon in Dewar’s Hollow is one example, but there are more mundane examples that baffle me still. What may seem noteworthy to one person is not to another. Without enough data for comparison, it can be difficult to know what is statistically significant and what is not. I have a tendency to become…frustrated when I have to deal with unfamiliar types of data.”

“What do you mean?” John asked, shifting his weight.

“Personal relationships are not my forte.” Sherlock allowed wryly.

John snorted his agreement.

“I am not accustomed to any level of intimacy with another person. Knowing what is and what is not within the normal parameters stretches my experience, John. I know what I feel, but I have no basis for comparison. I can only…try.”

“And that beside the fire, was that you trying?” John’s voice held a note of sarcasm, but Sherlock didn’t rise to the bait.

“That was me frightened, John.” Sherlock admitted quietly. It was still a difficult admission, even after all this time. His honesty startled John, whose posture stiffened in the dim outside light.

“Frightened of what?” John asked quietly.

Sherlock doesn’t answer, can’t answer. He swallowed, having underestimated how challenging this would be, even after all this time.

“Frightened of me, John. That I’m ordinary, an ordinary man.”

John didn’t reply for a long time. “You’re far from ordinary, Sherlock. But you are a man.”

He stood up. “And you still need to apologise when you’re a dick.” Without another word, John turned and walked back inside. Sherlock exhaled hard. That had gone pretty well, actually – when John saw him, the original him, tomorrow, he needed to be a bit pissed about Sherlock’s behaviour still. At least, Sherlock thought, as he made his way back to the TARDIS, he’d made his point to John – he was inexperienced with relationships, he had no idea what fit the ‘normal’ mould, and he was frightened of his emotions. With any luck, John would at least remember some of that. As long as he didn’t go and get too drunk, Sherlock thought wryly.

Thinking about drinking made Sherlock wonder…inspired, he took out his phone, checking the time. John had seen him drinking at the fireside; it was entirely plausible that he’d gone on drinking. Sherlock knew that his original self had, in fact, gone upstairs and stared at the ceiling for most of the night, trying to convince himself that there was a rational explanation for what he had seen. John would not know that; Sherlock had lain still the whole night, making no sound.

Without further thought, Sherlock took out his phone and texted John.

_I doubted my mind. That doubt infected every aspect of myself, John. Not just the evidence of my own senses as it related to the Hound, but to all my sensory input. I doubted my affection for you, my reliance on your suggestion and opinion. I doubted my trust in you John, which was a terrible thing. Terrible for both of us, because my behaviour was unforgivable. SH_

Sherlock hesitated, then pushed send. John was highly unlikely to show the message to Sherlock; in fact there was an 84% chance he would delete it within ten minutes of receiving it. It was a risk, to be sure, but wasn’t this whole venture a risk?

* * *

Next morning Sherlock made sure to arrive at the cemetery before either John or himself; he had to be sure the conversation went more or less as it had last time. The two sets of memories from last night warred in his head, and it was distracting, but he forced himself to focus.

John spent a good half an hour sitting in graveyard, flipping through his notebook while Sherlock watched, waiting for his earlier self to appear. John looked like sleep had eluded him, Sherlock thought. He kept flicking between two or three pages; Sherlock itched to know what was written there that held his attention for so long. In the end he was so busy wondering that he almost missed his own entrance. It was only when John snapped the booklet shut and stood up that he noticed himself striding up the path.

“Did you, er get anywhere with that Morse code?” Sherlock asked.

John stared at Sherlock, finally replying, “No.”

Sherlock stopped in front of him, asking, “U, M, Q, R, A, wasn’t it?”

At this blatant not-apology, John sighed and stood to walk away. “Yes.”

Sherlock continued to muse out loud, following John, until John stopped and turned, opening his mouth, pausing then closing it again. Sherlock had stopped, his voice trailing off, too, as he waited for John to speak. “Sherlock, about last night…”

The Sherlock hiding behind the hedge held his breath, willing John not to mention their conversation to this younger version, who would have no idea what he was talking about.

John cleared his throat. “About last night…” Sherlock peered around a leaf, seeing John and Sherlock looking at each other intently. John’s voice faltered, and he finished lamely, “…never mind.”

Sherlock looked confused, but he continued on his own train of thought, “So nothing on the Morse code…how about Louise Mortimer?”

John shook his head no, stealing glances at Sherlock as though he still had something to say but wasn’t sure how to start. This was _not_ how it went last time, Sherlock thought from behind the hedge, heart pounding again. Come on, they had to finish in the same place…

John stopped, turning decisively to Sherlock. “Will you explain what happened last night?” His words were firm, but there was a note of pleading behind it.

Sherlock blinked at him. “Something happened to me; something I’ve not really experienced before…” he trailed off, and John did not interrupt, as Sherlock remembered he had last time-- this time. “But it was more than that. It was doubt. I felt doubt. I’ve always been able to trust my senses, the evidence of my own eyes, until last night.”

John answered this time, as Sherlock remembered, though his tone was softer, less accusatory. “You can’t actually believe that you saw some kind of monster.”

“No, I can’t believe that. But I did see it, so the question is: How? How?”

 _This is where John turns away,_ Sherlock thought, waiting for John to harden again, for his younger self to chase after him.

John didn’t move. Instead he looked at Sherlock and said, “I know you haven’t had a lot of friends, Sherlock, or a lot of experience with fear or relationships or, or, a lot of stuff.” He paused here, clutching for the right words. “I know you’re always going to be an insensitive git, and probably so and I, sometimes. But I’ll help you figure it out, if you’ll let me.” The Sherlock in front of him nodded, looking a bit dazed, until his eyes lit up and he followed John, who had executed a military turn as he’d finished speaking.

“John! John! You are amazing! You are fantastic!” Sherlock’s voice was muted as he turned the corner, chasing John out of the graveyard.

 

The Sherlock behind the hedge was also dazed, though part of his brain registered that he and John were now talking again about HOUND being an acronym. _Things are back on track, but better,_ he thought. Much better. Checking his memories to be sure he wouldn’t cross paths with himself, he turned back towards the TARDIS.

“So?” The Doctor asked, peering over the top of his glasses, looking amused and curious at the breathless Sherlock that had just burst in.

“Better.” Sherlock replied, dropping into a seat with an explosive exhalation.

“So, when next?” The Doctor asked, closing his copy of _Death In the Clouds_ with a snap.

“Not sure yet.” Sherlock mused. “I’ll have to think about this one.”

* * *

After the case ended, John held Sherlock by his wrist and dragged him back to their room. They were staying one more night before leaving back to London the next morning. John knew it was the doctor in him that wanted to help Sherlock out of his emotional insecurities, but at the same time his heart knew he’s doing this for his own benefit too.

Sherlock, on the other hand, thought that John was being observant and saw through his shield. John sat Sherlock down on the edge of their bed, and lowered himself to squat in between Sherlock’s legs. His palms were on Sherlock’s knees to balance himself. Sherlock looked down, eyelids half mast, pupils dilated, his whole body tensed. John gently removed his hands, and sat himself down on the floor in front of Sherlock.

“Will you let me help you?”

“You don’t have to.”

“Why not?” John cocked his head to the side and frowned.

“Why would you?” Sherlock whispered.

“Because I care about you, Sherlock. Because I care about you more than I thought I would, more than I am capable of. But if you would let me, I swear to God I will try and try and try… until the day you can see why.”

“If you insist, John.”

With Sherlock’s permission, Doctor Watson set to work on a regimen for Sherlock, and his own way into Sherlock’s heart.

* * *

 

The following day back in the flat, John had wrote down a list of things Sherlock can start with as part of his ‘human’ exercise.

  1. **Don’t interrupt or change the subject.** Allow yourself a small space of time, uninterrupted, to digest your feelings.
  2. **Don’t judge or edit your feelings too quickly.** Try not to dismiss your feelings before you have a chance to think them through.
  3. **See if you can find connections between your feelings and other times you have felt the same way.** This may help you to realize if your current emotional state is reflective of the current situation, or of another time in your past.
  4. **Connect your feelings with your thoughts.** Often times, one of our feelings will contradict others. That’s normal. Listening to your feelings is like listening to all the witnesses in a court case. Only by admitting all the evidence will you be able to reach the best verdict.
  5. **Listen to your body.** A flutter of the heart when you go out on a date may be a clue that this could be “the real thing.” Listening to these sensations and the underlying feelings that they signal will allow you to process with your powers of reason.
  6. **If you don’t know how you’re feeling, ask John** **** **.** Ask us how you are coming across. You may find the answer both surprising and illuminating.
  7. **Tune in to your unconscious feelings**. Analyze your dreams. Keep a notebook and pen at the side of your bed and jot down your dreams as soon as you wake up. Pay special attention to dreams that repeat or are charged with powerful emotion.
  8. **Ask yourself: How do I feel today?** Start by rating your overall sense of well-being on a scale of 0 and 100 and write the scores down in a daily log book. If your feelings seem extreme one day, take a minute or two to think about any ideas or associations that seem to be connected with the feeling.
  9. **Write thoughts and feelings down.** I would recommend a physical diary. Blogs are overrated. **  
**
  10. **Know when enough is enough.** Observe other’s emotions. If you notice they are uncomfortable after you’ve said something, apologise immediately.



“I am not going to apologise for stating facts.”

“Personal boundaries, Sherlock. You will need to get a hang of it. No one likes it when you hang out their dirty laundry…”

“But you like it when I do that. I’ve noticed how you grin when I point out Anderson’s affair with Donovan, or Greg’s dissatisfying sex with his wife. The way you react subconsciously - when I pointed out the miserable state of your sexual relationship - implies that you enjoy seeing my brain work. Or am I wrong? I can't be wrong about that. It's obvious!”

Putting down the book he was reading, John grabbed Sherlock’s pen from the coffee table and snatched over the list. He scribbled quickly and handed it back to Sherlock.

  1. **Know when enough is enough.** Observe other’s emotions. If you notice they are uncomfortable after you’ve said something, ~~apologise immediately.~~ _smile and walk away. John will deal with the rest._



“Better?”

“Yup!” Sherlock enunciates the ‘p’ with a pop, settled into his chair and went into his mind palace while holding a firm grip on the list against his chin.

John saw his posture and knew he’s gone. He shuffled towards Sherlock and placed a gentle kiss on his forehead, pondering if his list was a selfish act-- no, he wasn’t going to regret this one bit. He shook his head to clear his thoughts, and sat back down on his own chair, reading Sherlock’s copy of Agatha Christie’s ‘ _The Grand Tour: Around the World with the Queen of Mystery’_ , savouring the bliss of rare domesticity in 221B Baker Street.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Death In the Clouds by Agatha Christie – The Doctor loves Agatha Christie (series 3, episode 13, ‘Last of the Time Lords’; he and Donna actually met her in ‘The Unicorn and the Wasp’, series 4, episode 7).


	4. Third Stop: Merry Christmas Dear John

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I AM  
>  **JOHN**  
>  LOCKED
> 
> The screen unlocked, at the same time it chimed.  
> <1 unread message from WSSH>

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> During time travel:  
> #1: Mobile phones with the same number works as long as they are in the right location.  
> #2: TARDIS adjusts all date and time of your devices (digital or analog) to the date & time of your location.  
> #3: TARDIS' encrypted network is unbreakable, because TARDIS exists in all space & time.  
> #4: The TARDIS can't sustain having two of the same people from the same timestream. But because our Sherlocks are from two different timestream/reality, it was ok for them to be in the TARDIS, as long as they don't touch each other.

In the three months between Dartmoor and the fall, Sherlock made some progress with his grasp on human interaction. He would give Mrs Hudson an occasional hug when she brings breakfast, or a pat on Greg's back when he says something clever at a crime scene. Sherlock kept a diary on his daily interactions and observations of his own emotional quadrant. It took him 29 days to realise he is in love with John, and John loves him more than he cared to admit. In the days before the fall, Sherlock would sit next to John every night in front of the telly and falls asleep on his lap intentionally, absorbing as much data as possible, locking it in his mind palace. The fall was a fixed point in time. There is nothing Sherlock or The Doctor could have done to change that. Sherlock will still have to go away for a period of time, dismantling Moriarty’s criminal network around the globe. He will have to wait until it's safe before he can claim John as his.

* * *

Back in the TARDIS, future-Sherlock and The Doctor were planning their next stop. Sherlock pointed out that the puzzle would be easier to solve without the fall.

 

“There must be something… UGH!” Sherlock was overwhelmed with frustration while plotting his next move with The Doctor. Both their hair looked like there was a hurricane in the TARDIS, throwing their curls in all directions. So far, every single idea from Sherlock has been shot down by The Doctor.

“The last time I did this, I had to blow up the entire universe with myself in it! I really don’t want to go through that experience again. It was…” The Doctor shivered. “We are already interfering with the Web of Time, and it could destabilise or destroy the entire space-time continuum.”

“I am well aware of THAT, DOCTOR!” Sherlock yelled.

“As long as you are. Go and get some sleep. TARDIS won’t take you anywhere in that state.” Of course, The Doctor lied. He knew Sherlock was aware of some protocols in place where TARDIS would not cause harm to any life forms, which made his lie plausible.

Unbeknownst to Sherlock, The Doctor already has a plan in place to clean up the mess they made. He knew from the moment Sherlock stepped into the TARDIS, he would end up with two Sherlocks - one from the day before John and Mary’s wedding, and another from the current reality. Sherlock Holmes is one of a kind, and it needs to stay that way.

Alone in his room, Sherlock tried to think, but the comfort of being in John’s bed fogged up his mind. In the past two days when they weren’t running down memory lane, Sherlock renovated The Doctor’s <Premium Squash Court VII> into John’s bedroom. Every wrinkle on his bed sheet, every creak on the floor, his scent in the pillows… everything that reminded him of John was in that room, built from his memory, in the TARDIS.

 _“No, please, there’s just one more thing,_ **_love_ ** _, one more thing, one more miracle, Sherlock, for me. Don’t… be... dead. Would you do...? Just for me, just stop it. Stop this.”_

Tears fell from Sherlock’s cheeks when he opened his eyes. The dream that he had was different from what he knew, and definitely felt real. He was hugging a pillow tight in his arms, legs folded with his knees against his abdomen and John’s cries ringing in his ears. His memory of John over his fake grave altered. He dried his eyes on the bed sheet and braved himself as he walked towards the console room.

 

“I need to know, Doctor.” Sherlock was being vague intentionally.

“No. You’ve already seen too much-- no, no, no. I am sending you home as soon as I fix the chameleon circuit. Don’t want to risk blowing up the universe again, Holmes. The big bang isn’t as fun as I thought it would be. Although the laws of time has changed after the second big bang, the universe isn’t as stable as it used to be. I have seen things you wouldn’t believe. I have lost things you wouldn’t understand. Trust me, I am _The Doctor_ \-- ah! Stupid, stupid Doctor!” He yelped as he tinkered with live wires below the console, almost getting shocked from matching the wrong ones together.

“I-- I promise I won’t do anything rash. Last stop, please.” Sherlock plead with a stifled sob.

Moments passed before The Doctor whispered, “Six hours, and you are staying in the TARDIS.”

* * *

 

_John: Merry Christmas, Mrs Hudson._

_Mrs H: Oh John! Look at you! Now give me a hug._

_Greg: Oh look who’s here! John, mate! C’mon now, everyone’s starving! Shall we begin?_

_Mrs H: Hold on now. There’s one more. Patience, children._

John, Molly and Greg were at Mrs Hudson’s on Christmas Day. It was noon when John arrived. Between Sherlock’s fall and John moving out, Molly and Greg had spend most weekends with Mrs Hudson, keeping her company while she grieves. The Doctor had also visited a few times after the fall, simply because she bakes brilliant scones and her custard recipe is to die for. He even prefers Mrs Hudson’s scones over fish fingers nowadays.

It wasn’t John’s intention to leave Mrs H alone, but he needed some time to sort out his own demons. He was so close to telling Sherlock how he felt, and they have made significant progress in their relationship leading up to the fall. John had regrets - he should have told Sherlock he loved him, should have cherished their time together, should have spent more time in love with Sherlock.

A rapid series of knocks on the front door startled John out of his thoughts. A familiar voice came booming by the door and he caught the face from the corner of his eye - Doctor _Basil_.

“Merry Christmas!” The Doctor had his arms held all the way up with a small gift on his right hand, smiling from cheek to cheek.

“Hello Doctor! Haven’t seen you around here for awhile. Good to see you!” Greg said.

“Doctor! Nice to see you again!” Molly chimed.

“Oh, yes, yes. You all look fantastic this afternoon!” The Doctor nodded towards Greg and Molly while seating himself across the table from John. Mrs Hudson poured him a fruit punch, Greg started carving the turkey and Molly was helping herself with the apple pie.

“Are there apples in there? I hate apples. OH! Custard! You’re the best, Mrs Hudson.” John couldn’t keep his eyes off The Doctor’s child-like behaviour. On Sherlock’s good days, he would get excited, exactly like The Doctor now, when John brings home fish and chips, or pork dumplings from their favorite Chinese takeaway - especially after a good case where Sherlock lived off caffeine, some sugar and nicotine for days.

 

After Christmas lunch, while Molly was helping Mrs Hudson with the dishes and Greg outside having a cigarette, The Doctor moved next to John. He was holding a gift, for John.

“Here you go! Merry Christmas John!” The Doctor held out the gift with a small card stuck next to a neatly tied ribbon. John took the gift in his hand and pondered. He didn’t know The Doctor would be there, and apologised for not having a gift for him.

John looked at it for awhile, contemplating The Doctor’s intentions. _“He’s just being nice.”_ John thought while opening the card. The moment he saw the note, his eyes welled up with tears.

 

 **_Merry Christmas, my dear John Hamish Watson._ ** ****  
**_I’m sorry, please forgive me._ ** **_  
_ ** ******_Love, WSSH_**

 

“Where is he? Why- why? Am I that insignificant to him?” John choked on his own words.

“You will have to ask him yourself.” The Doctor said nonchalantly.

Without saying another word, John left Mrs Hudson’s apartment and raced up to 221B. His mind was scrambled. So many questions, so many left unanswered. Walking into the living room of 221B and locking the door behind him, he sat down on Sherlock’s chair, gently running his fingertips over the note. After spending a few years with Sherlock, he has picked up a few things in the Science of Deduction. The note was definitely written recently, and he knows Sherlock’s handwriting better than his own. He is definitely alive. ‘ _Why?’_ was all John could ask himself.

John removed the note from the gift wrapper and placed it in the left inner pocket of his coat, close to his heart. Slowly, he unwrapped the gift and finds a mobile - similar to one he carried around that belonged to The Woman. He switched it on, found it locked with the same lock screen. He didn’t think twice before entering the password Irene Adler had.

I AM  
**SHER**  
LOCKED

<Wrong password. 2 attempts remaining.>

John was perplexed. Unconsciously he sat up and posed like how Sherlock would when he is in his mind palace. _“What could it be? Think like him, John… think!”_

A few minutes went by before John took the note out and looked at it again.

**_Love, WSSH_ **

_“Could it be…?”_ He typed in the first three keys before he paused, feeling a little vain, ashamed and afraid that all his emotions poured into their lives in the last few years was all one-sided. He had to try. After all, Sherlock was being extra affectionate in the days before he 'died'.

 

I AM  
**JOHN**  
LOCKED

 

The screen unlocked, at the same time it chimed.  
**< 1 unread message from WSSH>**

WSSH <15:34; 25/12/2011>  
You have questions. SH

John couldn’t believe his eyes. His vision blurred out from tears. He replied whilst wiping his tears away on the sleeve of his coat.

JHW <15:36; 25/12/2011>  
WHY?

WSSH <15:37; 25/12/2011>  
I promise I will explain. How many tries left? SH

JHW  <15:37; 25/12/2011>  
One.

JHW  <15:37; 25/12/2011>  
Wasn’t that difficult.

JHW  <15:38; 25/12/2011>  
Need to see you, NOW.

WSSH <15:39; 25/12/2011>  
Not now. SH

WSSH <15:40; 25/12/2011>  
You are angry. You should be angry. I had to protect you John. I had to protect us. This was my only option. I wanted to avoid dying if at all possible. I am sorry, please forgive me. SH

WSSH <15:41; 25/12/2011>  
John? SH

WSSH <15:42; 25/12/2011>  
JOHN! SH

WSSH <15:43; 25/12/2011>  
Are you alive? SH

_Sherlock knew this would trigger some sort of reaction from John, and he was right._

JHW  <15:43; 25/12/2011>  
For a genius you can be remarkably thick and insensitive.

WSSH <15:44; 25/12/2011>  
Sorry. Need to know you are safe. SH

WSSH <15:45; 25/12/2011>  
Wish I could tell you more, but the less you know, the safer you are. Please know and remember wherever I am, I will always come back to you. I will stay alive for you, John. You will always be my conductor of light, and I am now your Christmas miracle. Be well for me. SH

WSSH <15:45; 25/12/2011>  
P/S: Keep this a secret from everyone else. SH

JHW  <15:45; 25/12/2011>  
Be safe. Come back home soon.

WSSH <16:37; 25/12/2011>  
I love you.

The Doctor couldn’t help himself. After all that they have been through (and one more big hurdle for The Doctor), he couldn’t let Sherlock leave John hanging. He had set up the phones to route through the TARDIS’ encrypted network. When Sherlock finally noticed the last message, he was comforted by John’s reply.

JHW  <16:38; 25/12/2011>  
I love you too, and I missed you. Merry Christmas you prick.

John spent the rest of the evening in 221B alone, holding the phone against his chest and curled up in Sherlock’s chair. Between tears of anger and relieve, he fell in and out of sleep, dreaming about the day Sherlock comes home. Over the next few days, John tried to contact Sherlock but to no avail. The number saved in the phone was a scrambled string of 45 numbers. Naturally, John thinks Mycroft was involved, but after a heated conversation with the British Government himself, John gave up on tracking Sherlock.

Mycroft knew who was involved. He had seen the string of numbers in some archived documents written by Margaret Thatcher, Sir Winston Churchill and some from The Queen herself. There is only one constant amongst the changes happening in the universe - The Doctor.

Two weeks later, John found himself cleaning 221B, with his luggage once again at the front door. He was moving back in. Mrs Hudson was delighted, and The Doctor was still visiting for his weekly dose of custard and scones. John had to, and want to be there for Mrs H after Sherlock’s fall because she still believed Sherlock is gone forever. He was like a son she never had - a rude, demanding and wild-tempered son. To the world outside of 221B, John tried to leave his life with Sherlock behind, and failed miserably. Now that he is back in 221B, everyone - especially Greg, thought that his kind heart took over his own sorrow, putting Mrs Hudson above his own pain.

However to John, his mind is set to stay put until Sherlock comes home. Although there is a hint of relief in his life knowing Sherlock isn’t really dead, he still worries excessively on a daily basis. His nightmares returned, only now instead of civilians dying in his arms, it was Sherlock. Not knowing when would be the day, he can only wait, and hope that his patience is not spent in vain.

* * *

<Back in the TARDIS, Christmas Day 2011>

“We need to take a quick detour.”

“Mmmm…” Sherlock knew they weren’t going anywhere near John again. No point asking where they are going.

The TARDIS landed in the corner of Mycroft’s office on the 4th November 2013. The Doctor walked out quietly and locked the TARDIS’ door behind him. Seeing an empty office, he made his way to Mycroft’s table and sat on his “mightier-than-thou” leather chair. Few minutes passed, and Mycroft walked into his office.

“Ah, you must be The Doctor.”

“Hello, you must be the older Holmes! Came here as quickly as I could!”

“I called four months ago. Now that you are here, I know you have been acquainted with my brother. Any idea where he is?”

The Doctor didn’t say another word and starts swivelling in the leather chair. Mycroft’s patience was wearing thin. Sherlock had decided to go on his own in Serbia, claiming that the two men following him around are incompetent, and at best mediocre. As powerful as everyone else thinks he is, there are still places in the world where Mycroft can be rendered powerless. This is one of those places, and this is one of those times.

“I need your help. Find Sherlock.”

“Which one-- ah. The one in this time.” The Doctor stood up, and paced steadily towards the TARDIS. As he was unlocking the door, he turned his head and look at Mycroft. “Come along now Holmes. Don’t want to waste this opportunity being the hero now?”

Sherlock was hiding in his (John’s) room in the TARDIS but his curiosity got the better of him. As he walked towards the console room, he recognized a scent - expensive cologne, dry cleaning, a whiff of cigarettes and cigar - Mycroft!

“Good day, brother.” Strutting down the corridor, Sherlock greeted Mycroft sarcastically.

“Doctor. Care to explain?”

“Oh, this! Holmeses, we are going to save Sherlock Holmes. Hang tight!” The Doctor pulled a lever, and jerked three of them around the console room for a minute before it landed hard.

“Serbia. Interesting.” The Doctor jerked when he heard a loud thud on the door. He opened a small crack and peeked outside. A familiar head was against it and flopped to the side. It was Sherlock, unconscious. Mycroft saw his brother outside and dragged him into the TARDIS. The Doctor scanned Sherlock with the sonic screwdriver and returned to the screen in the middle of the console.

“He is fine. Flesh and skin injuries. Not dying today!”

“Of course he- I am not dead. I would not be here otherwise, Doctor.”

The Doctor tended to Sherlock’s wounds, Mycroft sat in a chair at the corner while future-Sherlock watched from the door before The Doctor pulled him into another room.

“Do not go any closer, Sherlock. You will not interact with him, see him or let him see you. You and him, you are not the same person. You do not exist in this new causal chain. Mary and John’s wedding did not happen in this present reality. Your knowledge of the other reality is fragmenting the Web of Time. I have told you on the very first day that this is a huge risk, not only to you, but to the entire universe. I have a plan, but you need to stay out of sight until I come for you. Nod if you understand me.” Sherlock stared blankly between The Doctor’s eyes and nodded. He walked back into his room, studying The Doctor’s words and the gravity of this situation.

A few hours later, Mycroft was sent back to his time. The Doctor promised to nurse his dear brother back to health before sending him home. Sherlock was unconscious for another day before he came to.

“John. How is John?” Sherlock muttered weakly while The Doctor cleaned his wounds.

“You're awake! You've been out cold for awhile. John... I can’t tell you. But I can show you once you feel better.”

Sherlock took another day before he could walk on his own, and The Doctor made good on his promise. They landed in a village, next to a tree with a small path leading up to a cottage. Cool clean air filled Sherlock’s lungs as he breathed in greedily. His body warmed up as the sun shone bright above him. After spending weeks locked up underground in Serbia, he is happy to see fields of greens and bees buzzing busily in between the flowers around the cottage.

The Doctor led him up to the cottage window, half covered by a curtain. Sherlock looked in and saw two old man sitting next to each other, arms around each other and the blond man's head on the other's shoulder in front of a telly. They were watching a documentary about the extinction of Bornean Orangutan.

**_“Sherlock. Remember that time we met one in the Philippines? Such a shame he didn’t have a mate. Can’t imagine how it feels like, being the very last one of its kind.”_ **

**_“Of course. What a beauty. Lonely, I know how that feels like.”_ **

**_“But you have me. It’s been 30 years, love. I vowed that you will never be alone as long as I live.”_ **

**_“Vice versa. I was lucky to have found you, John. My John.”_ **

 

“ _My_ John? Are we looking at my future, Doctor? Oh! We have bees! Of course we will!”

“Let’s take you back home now, shall we? I think you've seen enough.”

The Doctor sent Sherlock back to Mycroft’s office, 3 days after Sherlock was rescued from Serbia. Sherlock was debriefed and Mycroft announced the end of their mission. Anthea was right outside Mycroft’s office, ready to take Sherlock home to Baker Street. In the car, Sherlock took out a newspaper cut-out photo of him and John. It was the only thing that kept him going, that all he has went through in the past two years was for John, and that future he saw they had together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be loads of fluff. The ending is near!  
> Show us some love, leave us comments & kudos! xx


	5. The Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "How, why and who. He should not have known I was alive. I never told him I loved him, although I really should… WHO PRETENDED TO BE ME?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note:  
> #1: Italic quotes are Sherlock's inner thoughts.

Sherlock stood at the front door of 221 Baker Street while the driver pulled out his bag from the back and placed it by his left feet. Without a single word, the driver went back to the government issued black sedan and pulled the car away into the busy street. 

 

>   _Nervousness? Anxiety? Exhaustion? Not enough data to determine my emotional state. John. I need to see John now. Door knocker straightened. Mycroft had been here while I was away._

He waved his hands around his head, attempting to swat away his thoughts. Although he had been in compromising situations over the last 2 years, he always found time to revise John’s EQ regimen.  

 

> _This smell. Tea, coffee, scones, familiar scent of someone… later. John. I need to see John._

He stood absolutely still in front of the door, haven’t moved a fraction of an inch since he was dropped off 12 minutes ago. 

 

> _Dust. Mrs Hudson had been away for 4 months, no, 5 months. Mycroft must have sent her away on a holiday with her sister. Safe. They are safe. That smell - The Doctor. Faint smell of[cordite](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cordite)._

As soon as he realised he ran out of things to look at, he picked up his bag and opened the front door. 

 

 

> _Dark, no sign of the telly or movement in her kitchen and flat. Hypothesis confirmed - Mrs Hudson is away._  
>  _Snores, telly, wind whistles - John. Must be in the living room, probably fell asleep watching the telly and left the window slightly ajar._

Taking his first step up the stairs, he felt a weird sensation in his stomach.  

 

> _Physical reaction to emotions. What and why. Anxiety, tingling sensation on my fingers. Nervousness, tension in my stomach. Why - John._  
>  _Deep breaths, Sherlock._

He took a deep breath, and climbed the stairs two by two, until he was standing in front of 221B.  

 

> _Snores, telly, wind whistles, light shuffle. John heard the creaks of the stairs. He’s on the sofa. Breathing irregularly. REM, definitely uncomfortable._

Gently, he opened the door to find himself spot on. John was on the sofa, sleeping, with both his legs dangling off the side, the window behind Sherlock’s chair slightly ajar, telly was on low volume airing a documentary from History channel.  

 

> _Fell asleep watching telly. John sat on my side of the sofa and toppled over his torso when he fell asleep. His lower lumbar is in a compromising position. Need to adjust his legs._

Sherlock puts down his bag by the opened door and knelt next to the sofa. John was still dreaming. His eyelids flickered while mumbling something incomprehensible. Sherlock carried his left leg and straightened it on the sofa, and did the same with John’s right. John shifted when his right leg touched the sofa, and he whispered Sherlock’s name.  

 

> _He’s dreaming about me. He needs a trim and a shave._

Sherlock shifted closer to John’s face, letting his fingers brush over John’s ash brown hair.

 

“Hello John.” Sherlock quietly whispered. John shifted slightly again, closed his eyes tightly a few times without opening them and frowned before he lifted one sleepy eyelid.  
“Sherlock... come here.” John leaned towards Sherlock, reaching his left arm towards Sherlock’s shoulder.  

 

> _Thinks he’s still dreaming._

Sherlock could not resist John’s dreamy advances and sat on the edge of the sofa in front of John’s stomach. John’s arms wrapped themselves around Sherlock’s waist and pulled him down, planting a kiss on Sherlock’s forehead, nose, cheeks and stopped at his lips. John took a deep breath and stretched his legs, hands still around Sherlock’s waist, stubbled cheek rubbing against Sherlock’s smooth jaw.  

 

> _Breathing hitched. Heartbeat increasing. Waking up-- aroused._

“Sherlock? SHERLOCK!” John’s eyes shot open, pushing Sherlock and himself up from their horizontal position and yelled Sherlock’s name repeatedly. Still holding onto Sherlock’s body, John pulled Sherlock into a hug, burying his face in Sherlock’s neck. Sherlock could feel his tears, warm breath and light sobs against his skin, held his arms and wrapped it around John’s shoulders.

"John… I-- I’m home.” Sherlock appeared calm and collected, but inside he was trembling with joy, in the arms of someone he loves.

“Yes- sobs- yes you are home.” John could barely speak another word, holding onto Sherlock for dear life. Sherlock held his palm behind John’s neck, his long fingers massaged the bottom of John’s scalp, in some effort to soothe his flatmate.

John lifted his head a few moments later. He stared intently into Sherlock’s eyes and bit his lower lip, holding back another sob.  

 

> _Dilated pupils. Flushed cheeks. Still aroused._

John went in for a kiss. Sherlock felt his lips curved upwards. It was a gentle peck on the lips, but it conveyed John’s joy, relieve, pain, frustration and love for him. They sat on the sofa with arms around each other for another minute before John broke the silence.

"You lost weight. Did they not feed you in… where were you?”

“Around. Last in Serbia before I was rescued.”

“Come on. Unpack your bag and take a shower. You smell a little funky. I’ll cook dinner and you can tell me what happened over it.” Sherlock nodded and lifted them both off the sofa, grabbed his bag and walked towards his room.

“Uhm, Sherlock? I should tell you this before you walk into your room. I’ve been sleeping there ever since I moved back. Didn’t touch your things though. I’ll move my belongings back upstairs after dinner and you can have your room back. I’ll get you some clean sheets and-- _umph!_ ”

Sherlock held his lips tight on John’s, stopping John mid sentence. He opened his mouth gently, hoping John would reciprocate - and he did. The moment John’s lips came apart, Sherlock pushed his tongue over John’s lips, tasting the tea and biscuits he had earlier and peppermint toothpaste on his teeth. He had one hand held behind the small of John’s back and another on his head, fingers tangled between his hair, holding John’s face in his. They were both panting between the clash of teeth and tongue, until John pulled his face to the side and stared at Sherlock’s swollen lips. He ran his thumb over the lower and smiled.

“You have to tell me where you learned to snog. That was quite brilliant.”

“I’ll tell you tonight, and I don’t mind if you still want to sleep in my room. It must hurt climbing those stairs, which was why you slept in my room when you moved back here."

> _I want you to._

“If you insist.”

Sherlock pecked on John’s forehead, loosened his arms around John, picked up his bag from the kitchen chair and went into his room - their room. 37 minutes later, Sherlock came out of the shower and wore his favourite jammies. John had lasagne in the oven and a kettle on for tea.

* * *

 

“So, Mycroft pulled you out of Serbia? Really, just how powerful is your brother?” Sherlock couldn’t tell John about how The Doctor saved him without omitting what he saw in the cottage.

“Enough to pull me out of that hell hole. Enough about me. You mentioned you moved back. Didn’t know you moved out.”

“Yeah, I really thought you were dead. My limp came back and I needed to get away from everything that reminded me of you. Until Christmas. Glad I’m here, and you too Sherlock.”

Sherlock had no idea what happened on Christmas Day 2011, the day future-Sherlock sent John a gift and told him he loved him.

“John. You know I’m insensitive and oblivious to emotional cues. I’m sorry I had to hide this whole ordeal from you. You reacted exactly how I thought you would, although Mycroft told me otherwise. He said my expectations of your reactions would be as if you knew I was alive.”

“As if I knew? Of course I knew, Sherlock. Why else would I move back here? I came back because you told me you-- you loved me. On Christmas Day. Remember?” Sherlock shot John a confused look.

“Oh don’t you dare deny it. I have evidence, mister.”

“Wait-- show me.”  

 

> _How, why and who. He should not have known I was alive. I never told him I loved him, although I really should… WHO PRETENDED TO BE ME?_

John brought him a phone from the table and unlocked it. He looked through the messages.  

 

> _Definitely did not send these. Not my number. I know those numbers._

“I remember.” Sherlock was talking to himself as he recalled where that string of numbers came from - the TARDIS.

“Glad you remember.” John smiled with his eyes wrinkled, thinking Sherlock’s reply was to his question. He removed the plates from between Sherlock’s elbows on the table and left the dishes in the sink to soak. He turned his head and saw Sherlock in his mind palace posture, decided to let him be while he prepared tea for the both of them. 

 

 

> _The Doctor is involved. Time and space travel. This was me, but I didn’t send these messages to John. Who sent them? Me. But I don’t recall doing it. Amnesia - no. Wasn’t even in the country to send these. It must be me, but I don’t remember - something I have yet to do. The last one wasn’t me, but good to know John feels the same. John is important. He is everything to me. I would’ve travelled back in time to do it. The Doctor would know. I should ask The Doctor. What else did I- would I have- did I… Note to self - need to study on time travel verb tenses._

Sherlock came out of his mind palace and found John across the table from him sipping a cup of tea. John pushed another cup towards him, looking at him fondly.

“I missed this. You. I was so bored, so lonely when you were away.”

“I love you too John.”

John placed his cup down on the table and reached his hand across to Sherlock’s. As soon as he had a firm grip on Sherlock’s hand, he stood up, pulling Sherlock off his chair and marched into the bedroom, dragging Sherlock behind.

“I think it’s time for you to tell me the story about where you learned to snog so brilliantly.” Sherlock could hear John smirking. When he realised what John was about to do to him, he tightened his grip on John's hand and pulled John into his chest, standing just one step away from their bedroom door.

"Let me show you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter update! Aren't we all glad Sherlock is home? Next chapter will be sex, sex and more sex. Absolutely fantastic sex. If you are not interested in gay sex, please skip the next chapter. Story will resume in chapter 7.
> 
> If you are enjoying this story do leave us kudos and comments! xx


	6. Welcome home, love.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Sex ahead. Story continues in the next chapter.
> 
> "As long as you are only addicted to me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #1: Italic quotes are Sherlock's inner thoughts.

_ “Let me show you.” _

 

Sherlock pulled John into the bedroom, locked the door behind them and held John on his shoulders against the door. As he leaned in closer, he purred when his chest pressed against John’s. His eyes were half open, gently breathing onto John’s left cheek. John was taking in short, staccato, deep breathes through his nose, eyes wandering southwards when he felt Sherlock’s hands hovering over his hips on the sides. He was stiff, standing at attention with his hands on his sides.

“I’m not a virgin, John, neither are you. Why are you acting like it's your first time?”

“Because it’s you. You are here with me. I don’t want this to be a dream, wake up and you’re gone. And it’s been awhile since I’ve been… intimate. I’ve been waiting for you, Sherlock, all these while.”

“You have waited long enough. Hold me.” Sherlock groaned deep in his throat and held his lips against John’s while they wrapped their arms around each other. John threw his arms across Sherlock’s shoulders and locked his fingers behind Sherlock’s neck while Sherlock held his arms around John’s waist and pulled them towards the bed. When Sherlock felt the back of his knees brushing the edge of the mattress, he fell backwards, pulling John over him.

“So, where did you learn to snog like that?” John asked quietly while he lifted his weight off Sherlock, trying to relieve some unpleasant pressure on his throbbing cock, pressed between his own weight and Sherlock’s knee.

“You. I learned it by observing your encounters with your previous  _ conquests _ . I have a file. Brought it with me and studied it extensively in between travels, until it was blew up along with the house I was staying in Moscow. Once I even practiced it on your pillow before I left, smells like you, but without any feedback it’s really quite useless. With all that knowledge, actually doing it isn’t that difficult.”

“How did you observe? Please don’t tell me you have cameras in my room.” John frowned, Sherlock released a light chuckle and wiped a bead of sweat on John’s forehead.

“I don’t. Mycroft does. I got him to give me the tapes and in return I solved that case of the missing Duchess. It was really unpleasant observing everything after the removal of garments. Your performance was brilliant though.” Recalling the images of John having sex with his previous  _ conquests _ made Sherlock’s stomach churn.

> _ Delete. _

“Did you just think about the tapes?” Sherlock glanced subconsciously towards the bottom drawer on his nightstand, and John saw. He pushed himself off Sherlock and went for the drawer, finding a stack of DVDs labelled by date and duration.

“You have a stack of porn, starring  **me** .” He stated matter-of-factly.

“Yes. I’ve only watched all of them once. Needed more data. Couldn’t do more with it even if I wanted to. It was disgusting.”

“Disgusting? The fact that you have them in your possession IS disgusting! I will deal with Mycroft later-- wait, are there any cameras in here?” John’s nose flared, eyes blown wide open and his fist were held tight.

“It’s disgusting because of the other  _ homosapien  _ involved.” Sherlock spat at the mention of the other person, disguised his disgust with science. 

“You are not disgusting John. You are perfect, especially when you have your arse facing the camera. Blocked its view of the other person, just made it easier for me to imagine I was there instead.”

“Oh Sherlock. Sherlock…” John couldn’t stay angry at Sherlock, especially after what he just said. Sherlock was jealous of his previous conquests, adorably jealous. He closed the drawer and held Sherlock’s head in his hands, lowering his own face and brushed his nose on Sherlock’s. Mumbling Sherlock’s name over and over, he let his fingers caress Sherlock’s forehead, cheek, jaw, chin, moving lower and lower onto Sherlock’s heaving chest. He leaned forward, hovered his lips above Sherlock’s nipple, tracing his tongue around the darker skin, avoiding the peak.

“Is there a camera in here, love?” He murmured the repeated question and blew a breath on Sherlock’s nipple, biting on it gently, flicking his tongue against it between his teeth, making goosebumps appear on Sherlock’s skin.

“No… came-rrrrrr-a in my room.” Sherlock rolled his tongue mid sentence when John released his nipple and dragged his tongue down to his abdomen, released the button and pulled down the zipper of his trousers. John pulled Sherlock’s pants and trousers down to his ankles in one go, almost pulling Sherlock off the bed.

“Shame. Would’ve been great to have a copy of this. Now go up on the bed.” John commanded. Sherlock felt a tingling sensation. John didn’t ask, he  _ commanded _ . Captain Watson is, and always will be Sherlock’s faltering point. Sherlock pulled himself up to the center of their king sized bed with his elbow, digging into the soft duvet underneath him, while John pulled his pants and trousers completely off him along with his shoes. Sherlock stared at John as he took off all his clothes hurriedly, and climbed on top of Sherlock, straddling his hips.

John’s neck and chest were flushed bright red from arousal. He cradled Sherlock’s cock in his dominant hand, closed his eyes and surged forward, pressed his lips to Sherlock’s. The detective’s flushed cock twitched at the touch, his hands grabbed the back of John’s head, tongue parting John’s, slick, hot and full of enthusiasm, as if he had been craving for this for a long long time - something John had not felt before. Both of them were moaning, kissed each other deeper, harder, tongues tangled together in Sherlock’s mouth.

 

Suddenly, Sherlock pulled back and broke the kiss. A trail of fluid stretched between their lips and drooled over Sherlock’s chest. His eyebrows cocked, lips pressed together in a straight line. John knew that face, it was the face he had when he’s analysing the situation, the face he had when he’s thinking.

“I’m an addict, John. This is dangerous for me. If you are going to leave after this, I suggest we not start at all. In fact--” John pressed his right index finger on Sherlock’s kiss-swollen lips, shushing him.

“No. I want you, forever, Sherlock. I’ll take care of you, as long as you will have me, and as long as you are only addicted to me.”

Sherlock managed a sharp nod then pushed himself up towards John, grinding his cock against John’s body, and John pushed down, shifting till their cocks were aligned together. John steadied himself with one arm and wrapped the other hand on both their hard lengths. There was a steady stream of precome leaking from Sherlock’s cock, slicking them both up as John pumps the head of their cocks gently. Sherlock felt his orgasm looming in his stomach.

> _ Don’t come. Vanderwaals radius of the periodic table. Hydrogen 120, Helium 122, Fluorine 135, Oxygen 140. Oxygen. Atmosphere. Air. Lungs. I need to breathe. Can’t think. _

“John, no. Please stop. I don’t want to come yet. Not so soon.”

Reciting the Vanderwaals radius of the periodic table in his own head calmed Sherlock’s erection a little, but he needed more of John. Going over the edge will freeze his brain, disabling him of cataloguing this first experience. He held John’s wrist and pushed John over on his back, kissed him hungrily, cataloguing every taste in his mouth. It tasted like everything Sherlock wanted - tea, chocolate (note to self, John has a secret stash of chocolates, must find it), a slight hint of toothpaste, dinner and John. It tasted like John, like home. He slipped his forearm under John’s back and held himself close, rubbing their throbbing length together. John lets out a moan, and the sound shot straight to Sherlock’s cock, twitching above John’s.

“Wait. Sherlock, wait.” John panted. He sat up, pulling himself out from Sherlock’s hold and laid on his stomach. Sherlock got up and was naturally kneeling on the bed, heels pressing against his arse. John moved a little closer, his face in Sherlock’s cock, gently rubbing his cheek on the underside of it. He nosed lower between both balls, took a quick sniff and swirled his tongue around the left one. That drew a loud grunt from above him. He licked his lips, covering it with his own saliva and lowered his lips onto the tip. After sucking it a few times, he pushed it further down Sherlock’s length, taking almost half of it in his mouth with its tip very close to his uvula.

“Oh John. That is… so… good… ugh!” Sherlock gripped John’s hair and pushed himself shallow in and out of his mouth. He was chasing his own orgasm but he forced himself to be in control, not wanting to hurt John in any way. Pulling John away, he repositioned himself and sat on his arse, legs hooked behind John’s shoulders, trapping him in position. John gripped the bottom half of Sherlock’s cock, pulling it as he swallowed in, smacked his thumb into his lips. John started to moan as he humped the duvet and the vibration in his mouth threw Sherlock over the edge. Sherlock pumped his hips a few more times, shivered as he came in John’s throat and mouth, crying out John’s name over and over again. As the high of his orgasm fades, he relaxed his legs and dropped them on the sides of John body.

John tried but couldn’t swallow any of his come. It tasted bitter and metallic. He pushed it out of his mouth and let the dollops of come fall onto Sherlock’s lap.

Wriggling into John’s arms, Sherlock laid next to John as the little spoon and pressed his arse against John’s cock. John’s breath hitched and started panting as Sherlock continued to hump into John’s aching cock.

“Lube. Do you have any?” John whispered into Sherlock’s neck and sent shivers down his spine. Sherlock shook his head. John reached down to Sherlock’s lap and wiped Sherlock’s come onto his palm. He reached back to his cock and slicked it up, wiped his hand on the duvet before touching Sherlock again.

“Sherlock… more. Just a little more.” John cooed as his palms kneaded Sherlock’s arse, spreading them apart a little to slot his cock in between. He held one hand on Sherlock’s chest, fondling and flicking on Sherlock’s sensitive nipple, the other hand under Sherlock’s neck across the shoulder, dug his elbow into the duvet to hold Sherlock in place. He continued to thrust his hip, feeling his cock rubbing in between Sherlock’s pale arse.

“Oh god, yes! Fuck, Sherlock, tighten it for me love.” Sherlock whimpered as John brushed against his over sensitive nipple and tightened his arse with every touch.

“Just like that. Oh fuck!” John came and snapped his hips a few more times, gripping Sherlock tight in his arms. Sherlock felt the pulses of John’s cock between his arse cheeks and their mix of come sticky in between. John pulled out from between and nuzzled his face into the back of Sherlock’s neck. He slowly shifted up towards Sherlock’s head and sucked on his neck desperately, leaving a line of love bites from the back of his ear down to his shoulder.

“You are mine now, Sherlock. All mine.”

“Gladly yours.” Sherlock turned around facing John and grinned seductively. He pulled him into a breathy snog before asking if Sherlock could manage a shower. Sherlock sank into the bed - the answer is no.

“Try not to fall asleep before I clean you up.” John quickly went to the bathroom and brought back a wet towel. He wiped down Sherlock’s arse, cock and lap carefully before his own, and threw the towel on the floor. He laid down next to the love of his life and held Sherlock in his arms. They were both exhausted, Sherlock more than John, but the comfort of being in each other’s embrace led them to sleep. Just before John fell into slumber, he gave Sherlock a gentle kiss goodnight.

 

“Welcome home, love.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This is John and Sherlock's first night back together. John waited for a long time, not knowing if Sherlock will ever come home. Naturally, they have some issues to sort out, and both being alpha males (Captain John and Genius Sherlock) they are tugging and pulling at each other to figure out their dynamic in bed - at least that was how I imagined it.
> 
> Phew. This is my first time writing smut, and it is bloody satisfying. The little squabble in the middle wasn't part of the plan, but I got distracted and wrote this next to a mug of whisky.  
> Will come back and double check the tenses. It's meant to be past continuous tense. Comment any errors you find and I'll fix it!
> 
> Again, thanks for reading. The story continues in the next chapter.


	7. Existence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I am giving you my days. Be well, both of you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter continues from Chapter 4 - in the TARDIS, after Sherlock was rescued from Serbia and sent back to London.

Sherlock was sent back to Mycroft’s office after a quick trip to the future. The Doctor waddled back into the TARDIS and headed towards the old Premium Squash Court VII. He gave the door a gentle knock, and a grunt came from inside.

“Hello Sherlock.”

“What?” Sherlock snarled at The Doctor.

“Oh. Attitude. Attitude is good. I like an attitude. Where did you get that from? Why are you--” Before The Doctor could say more, Sherlock walked up to The Doctor, their face so close they could feel each other’s breath on the tip of their noses. “Bored.” Sherlock backed away and spun dramatically, facing away from The Doctor.

“Right. Of course you are. Well then, we need to discuss this situation of yours.” The Doctor flopped onto Sherlock’s (or John’s) bed, crossed his arms in front of his chest and propped his left leg onto his right knee. He patted the mattress asking Sherlock to sit next to him, crossed his arms again. Sherlock sat on the edge of the bed with 129 ways this situation could play out in his head.

This Sherlock only exists in the aborted timeline where John and Mary are engaged. However, due to Sherlock’s long exposure to time travel, most rules of time travel doesn’t apply to him any more, otherwise he would have ceased to exist when something changed in Dartmoor - especially if he had left the TARDIS, which was why The Doctor insisted that he stayed put inside. In the time when both Sherlocks were in the TARDIS, she was heaving though the time vortex. The existence of this Sherlock is causing a paradox, taking a toll on the TARDIS. There can only be one Sherlock Holmes in this timeline.

“That Sherlock out there, he is me. I knew the risks when I boarded the TARDIS the first day. If it means I will have John by my side till the day I die, I’m ready to accept the consequences to my actions.” Sherlock said while he stood up, straightened his shirt and walked towards the door. It was still open when The Doctor came in.

“You should meet Rory one day. I’m sure you both will have so much to talk about! He’s always waiting, and you are always sacrificing. Always! Why is that?” Sherlock shrugged The Doctor’s question and left the room. The Doctor leaped off the bed and followed suit.

* * *

 

#####  
**15 May 2014 / 16:07** **  
** **221B Baker Street  
** Three days before The Wedding  
#####

“Wait here. I’ll knock when it’s clear.” The Doctor walked out of the TARDIS and closed the door behind him. The TARDIS landed in the middle of 221B.

“What is that noise Sherlock? Don’t make me order the velvet cake instead of chocolate!” John yelled from the bath. The Doctor jumped when he turned around and saw Sherlock standing by the window, eyes wide open, staring at The Doctor and the TARDIS.

“John. We have a visitor.” Sherlock stated.

“Who is- what is that?” John was wrapped in a towel from waist down, drops of water trickled down his neck onto his shoulders and he stood very still by the kitchen.

The Doctor popped his head into John’s view from the side of the TARDIS.

“Hello doctor Watson. Nice to see you again!” The Doctor look a quick glance downwards and turned back to face Sherlock.

“Well, I’m not alone. Someone you need to meet. Someone you both need to meet.” The Doctor knocked the door and future-Sherlock opened the door.

John had put on his pants, trousers and an old army t-shirt before walking to the living room. He saw Sherlock, and _Sherlock_?

“Am I dreaming?” John squints and looked at Sherlock by the window. Sherlock stepped towards The Doctor while future-Sherlock hid between The Doctor and the TARDIS.

**“No, John. Don’t be silly.”  
“No, John. Don’t be silly.”**

Both Sherlocks said the same thing at the same time. The Doctor rubbed his palms together, “Oh. This is interesting. Weird, but good.”

 

John couldn’t brain any of this. He gave up with a sigh.

“Tea, anyone?” Naturally, everyone nodded. Who wouldn’t? As he put the kettle on, he heard light shuffles of feet against the floorboard and taps of soles.

In the living room, Sherlock wanted to examine his other self closer, but The Doctor wouldn’t let him. All three of them argued back and forth via micro expressions and shuffled around the living room. The Doctor stood between the two Sherlocks, spinning left and right as Sherlock tried to reach out to himself over and over. A few seconds was all it took for them to reach an agreement - no touching.

Sherlock sat on his chair while future-Sherlock sat with The Doctor on the sofa. John came back with a tray and four cups of tea. Once he had handed all of them their cups, he sat down and took a sip of his own.

“Doctor Basil. What brings you here and what have you brought?” John finally asked.

**“Your worse nightmare."  
“Your worse nightmare.”**

"This is brilliant! How are you both still thinking alike? I would love to tell you why I'm here, John, but it is not my story to tell." The Doctor grinned as he looked at John intently.

Both Sherlocks stared at each other and told the other to shut up. John trailed his fingers across the back of his head, up and over to his forehead and gave it a tight squeeze. He was already getting a headache in the presence of two high functioning sociopaths.

Future-Sherlock knew there was no avoiding this moment and started his story from the night before John and Mary’s wedding in the aborted timeline, explained the where, what and when, avoiding the why - John.

 

“So, Doctor. You are not a medical doctor. You are a time traveller, Sherlock’s friend and this box is a time machine. Your name is not Basil. And _that_ …” John pointed towards future-Sherlock. “That is also Sherlock?” He looked back and forth between both Sherlocks.

“One of you is enough to manage, but two? You were both right that The Doctor brought me my worse nightmare.” John rolled his eyes at Sherlock.

“It was you. You sent those message. I knew you were involved somehow! _(pointing at The Doctor)_ Are we allowed to do that? Going back and interfering with my past?” Sherlock asked while future-Sherlock gave him an uncomfortable stare.

"We did. But there is a price to pay, and I intend to." Future-Sherlock's words darkened the living room of 221B. Sherlock realised that his other self was about to do something drastic. He knows himself too well to think otherwise.

“Doctor. Is there another way?” Sherlock asked. The Doctor shook his head.

“Any one of you want to fill me in? Sherlock?” John looked back and forth between both Sherlocks and The Doctor.

“There can only be one of us. That me shouldn’t exist because he changed my past, our past, John. His entire reality cease to exist.” Sherlock explained. He exchanged a look with John - his eyes filled with sorrow, as if he had to leave John behind forever. In fact, he was. He could feel the pain in the other Sherlock's eyes, who went through hell, and about to be removed from existence altogether.

“There is another way, but it might be worse than this. I can still send you back to the aborted reality, Sherlock. It could have split into another reality, or it could be just _nothing_.” The Doctor spoke quietly, lowering his head in defeat. He wanted to save Sherlock, both Sherlocks, but he knew from the very beginning it was never possible. Sherlock took the chance and the risk, now he will face the consequences.

Future-Sherlock stood up from the sofa, and walked towards John and Sherlock. His heart was beating hard against his chest, nervous and not knowing what could turn out from what he was about to do. Removed from existence - _how would it feel? Will there be any pain? Will they remember me?_  
He held John’s arms with both hands and pulled himself into a hug with John. That was all he will ever get, after all he has been through for himself.

“Please John, never leave _that_ me. I love you, and I always will.” He straightened himself and went next to Sherlock who was still sitting on his chair, he reached out his hand hovering across Sherlock’s face.

“I am giving you my days. Be well, both of you.” Future-Sherlock dropped his hand without touching Sherlock and walked back into the TARDIS with tears rolling down his face.

“Ah crying. Humany-wumany. Good for you. Good! For! You! And that went better than expected.” _The last time The Doctor went through a similar situation with Amy and Rory, it didn't go too well. At least this time he didn't need to lie._

The Doctor pranced towards and leaned against the TARDIS. Sherlock stood up, wanted to go after his other self when The Doctor shook his head. John raised both his eyebrows when he heard Sherlock breathed harder. He held his arms tight around Sherlock as he slumped down into John’s lap, burying his face into John’s shoulder.

“Care to explain, Doctor?” Sherlock barely got those words out before he snuggled deeper in John’s arms.

“You crossed your own timeline, Sherlock. One reality split into two, parallel universes. It could be the same back where he came from, or not. What do they teach you in school these days? Basic time travel physics. Simple!”

“What will happen to _him_?” John asked while tracing his palm up and down Sherlock’s back, trying to soothe his panicking flatmate.

“Don't know yet. Will find out soon. Do keep up!"

"Doctor. Come back for our wedding, will you?"

"Of course I will, Sherlock. I’ll probably skip the boring bits but I will definitely come for the dancing. Dancing is great. Oh look. Gotta run. Clara’s still waiting for me in the Dalek’s spaceship. See you both soon!” The Doctor hopped into the TARDIS without looking back, closed the door and the TARDIS whooshed out of John and Sherlock’s living room.

 

“Sherlock. Are you alright?” Sherlock was still in a daze after what happened. He nodded gently and held John tighter.

“I’m not going anywhere, love. And both my feet are getting numb. Mind getting off me?” John chuckled. Sherlock quickly released John from their embrace and hopped off John’s lap.

“Sorry. I really am.” Sherlock sat in front of John and laid his palms on both John’s knees.

“Why? It’s just pins and needles. Blood circulation will get rid of it soon enough.” John wriggled his toes and smiled at Sherlock’s gesture.

“No, not that. Sorry I manipulated you into falling in love with me. That was a bit not good.” Sherlock’s eyes were looking down at John’s wriggling toes.

“No. Don’t do that. Maybe you did manipulate me but I was already in love with you. You just shoved me in the right direction. Sherlock, look at me.” Sherlock looked up into John’s eyes.

"I love you."

"I love you too, **John Watson-Holmes**."

 

 

 

 

> _You are worth every sacrifice I make, no matter which universe._

 

* * *

 

#####  
**18 May 2014 / 00:15** **  
** **221B Baker Street (Original Universe)  
** Night before The Wedding  
#####

“Well here we are, home sweet home!” The Doctor cried as the TARDIS wheezed to a stop. He looked over at Sherlock, doing a double take to see the frozen expression on his face.

“It may have changed, or it may not have at all. You won’t know until you go out there.” He said quietly, settling one hand on Sherlock’s shoulder.

“Schroedinger's cat.” Sherlock murmured, and The Doctor gave a small smile.

“Schroedinger's cat. Exactly. He was quite a pleasant man. Great cook too. Not a patch on Liz10, though, the things that woman could do with a potato...” he replied, trailing off as he realised he’d digressed.

Sherlock still didn’t move, looking more like a man condemned than a man facing possible redemption.

“I’ve heard there’s some analogy about a Band-Aid,” The Doctor offered, pronouncing the word carefully as though it was foreign. “Something about ripping it off to lessen the pain.” Sherlock nodded absently, still staring at the door. The Doctor started walking slowly, hand still on Sherlock’s shoulder, guiding him forward.

“Good luck,” he said, opening the door to reveal the sitting room of 221b Baker Street. “Ah. A little closer than I expected. Hope I didn’t knock over the telly again.” He turned to face Sherlock, adding, “Whatever happens, you can still change the future. Never, never ever give up.”

The Doctor waved goodbye as Sherlock stumbled through piles of paper, landing himself on his chair.

 

 

 

 

 

> _John’s tuxedo is still here._ _He must be quite angry that I left without a word… no, I’ve only been gone for 5 minutes. He should be coming back up soon._

The TARDIS whooshed out of the living room, sending pieces of paper flying all across creating a huge mess. Sherlock hears John stomping up the stairs, heavy, and mumbling to himself. Sherlock can only make out a few words like git, selfish, ran away, and disappeared, no idea, love… _Love_?

“Sherlock! Why are yo- wha- I thought I saw you leav- Who-wha-WHAT is going on!?” John stuttered through his sentence and ended with a shout. Sherlock saw his face puffy, cheeks flushed, eyes swollen and his mouth slightly open, breathing hard. John’s fists were clenched tight. His knuckles were turning white.

John blinked hard, twice.

“I am still here, John.” Sherlock can hear The Doctor’s voice repeating in his head, _“We will never find out until it happens, and it may not be what you hoped for.”_ He is nervous, unsure of what will happen next, what would John say, wondering how his life would be different from when he left 5 minutes ago. Everything he did in the past week all comes down to this moment. Will this be a **_Watson-Holmes_ ** wedding too? Or will he have sacrificed himself for himself in the other parallel universe and continue to suffer in heartache here?

 

John frowned and stared at Sherlock for two seconds. It was the longest two seconds of Sherlock’s life. John broke the silence and walked towards Sherlock. John held Sherlock’s hand in his right while his left hand reached out to the tuxedo hanging on the mantelpiece, pulling Sherlock’s left arm with him. Gently, John shoved the pile of cloth into Sherlock’s chest, locking his fingers into Sherlock’s right.

“Sherlock! Never mind how you got back up here but the **groom** and **groom** are not supposed to see each other the night before the wedding! Now take this and go back to the hotel. I’ll see you tomorrow at the altar.”

That very second, the doors of Sherlock’s mind palace blew open. A flood swept through his libraries, opening up all that has happened. The paradox has fixed itself. Everything that happened after Christmas in 2011 in the parallel universe became Sherlock’s reality. The war between him and Moriarty ended. John is safe, so is everyone else. The proposal and the wedding. THE WEDDING.

Sherlock stood up from his chair, dropped the tuxedo on the floor and gave John a loving kiss on the lips. As he pulled John away from his face and into his chest, his left hand still locked with John’s right, Sherlock turned his head towards the mantelpiece, chin resting on John’s head. Sherlock let out a sigh of relief and under his breath, he whispered into John's hair.

 

“We need to invite one more to our wedding.”

 

* * *

* * *

 

**Note: (updated 29 June 2017)**

Hello everyone! Here's a timeline map I've used to reference in writing this story. The notes in the timeline map is slightly different from the final story (the timey-wimey stuff's fault), but it doesn't steer far away from the final story.

Click on the image to view full image. It will clear out some confusion (if you have any, otherwise you are amazing) ! xx WH

[ ](http://i67.tinypic.com/2m84p6e.jpg)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From whitehart: This is it! It's the end! I might write an epilogue of the wedding, and another of the skull from 1000 years in the future.  
> Thanks for reading this far, really enjoyed cracking my head for this story!
> 
> From afghanistanorgallifrey (bigblueboxat221b): Let's be real, here: the credit for most of this belongs to whitehart - the first idea, ALL of the timey wimey stuff, most of the writing! She's just brought me along for the ride, Jack Harkness-on-the-outside-of-the-TARDIS-style! Twisting my brain around the rules/consequences of space/time travel has been exhausting! It's been exhilarating watching whitehart explain how events work with respect to the Doctor's personal timeline and Sherlock and John's memories and perspectives. Thank you all for reading our (her) effort. :)
> 
> A/N: John shouldn’t remember seeing future-Sherlock because he was never exposed to the time vortex, but because John is in The Doctor’s personal timeline, it is possible for him to retain that memory (Amy remembered two versions of The Doctor’s death in Utah from ep. The Wedding of River Song).
> 
> Both versions of Sherlock had 23 days of exposure to the Time Vortex when they were younger (before Sherlock met John) when they went on an adventure and found the skull, which is why Sherlock remembers everything. 
> 
> Future-Sherlock's world changed because he himself has changed, and some parts of his past changed before John came to decide he will wait for Sherlock (Christmas 2011). This time travel scenario is inspired by the Blinovitch Limitation Effect.
> 
> TL;DR - Leave a comment if you are interested to know. Otherwise, just accept that there are so many unknown time travel laws, no one really knows how it all works, even The Doctor!


	8. The Honeymoon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The groom and groom are not supposed to see each other the night before the wedding!"
> 
> Now that the wedding is over, The Doctor is taking them away for their honeymoon!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (whitehart) I lied! It's not over! The story can be read up till Chapter 7 as a complete story. Chapter 8 onwards are bits and pieces after the wedding, honeymoon and maybe kids? Eventually John finds out about the origin of the skull on the mantelpiece.

**Sherlock's POV**

I sat next to the fireplace in 221B, with John right across me, reading a medical journal while fiddling with his wedding band. He does that all the time, especially when he's entertained by whatever he's doing.

"Why are you staring, love?"

John caught me staring without looking up. His observational skills has improved so much over the years, especially after our wedding. I should pretend to be in my mind palace. Love it when he does things to me thinking I wasn't aware.

\---

**John's POV**

He's staring at my hands. Must be the fiddling. It annoys him to no ends, but I can't help it. Touching the ring reminds me that Sherlock is mine, and I belong with him.

"Why are you staring, love?"

He loves it when I use terms of endearment. Oh, look. He's going to pretend he's in his mind palace. I should fuck with him a little. He thinks he's the only one who knows how to run experiments and observe. What an idiot!

\---

Sherlock sat very very still, holding his position with his palms pressed against each other, fingertips pressing under his chin. His gaze was fixed on John's hands, and didn't shift them when John moved out of his chair.

John lifted himself off his chair and laid down the journal he was reading on the table next to him. He took three steps towards Sherlock and stood in front of his consulting detective. He licked his lips, brushed his fingers into the head of lush black hair, slowly pulling his fingers down lower across Sherlock's neck, shoulders, back and rested his hand on the edge of a pair of blue silk pyjama bottoms.

Sherlock felt his husband's hand on the small of his back, lingering between skin and silk. _He's hesitating. To slip his hands in or to pull my pants down. I would prefer the latter-- oh!_ He felt a pinch on the upper side of his buttocks. Even though he was distracted, he didn't let a sound slip through his lips. He did, however, lose control of his physical body and flinched involuntarily.

It has been 5 years 7 months since they first met at Bart's, 3 and a half years since their Christmas 'love confession' text (technically it was the other Sherlock, but it didn't mattered to John), 8 months since Sherlock came back from Serbia, 7 since he proposed (it was not romantic at all) and a little over a month since their wedding. John knows every trick up Sherlock's sleeve when it comes to their relationship.

That flinch was a sign, a tell-tale sign that Sherlock was pretending. If he was really in his mind palace, he would have groaned and shifted in his chair. John had the luxury of experimenting with it in the earlier days of their partnership, touching different parts of his flat mate (back then) and analysing his different reactions.

'The Butt Pinch' was by far the most consistent. John tried it in 27 different occasions and was caught twice. The first time was when they were in Dartmoor, after he had spent the evening looking for the source of a Morse code (which turned out to be teenagers shagging at the back of their car). Sherlock was in their room, so deep in his mind palace, didn't even notice John came back, showered and slept naked right next to him. Sherlock sat on the edge of the bed, back facing John who was lying on his side trying to sleep.

John couldn't keep his hands to himself, and Sherlock's butt was right within his reach. The pinch got a groan out of Sherlock, and he shifted both his legs up and crossed it on the bed. The next day, Sherlock grumbled about an itch and a bruise, hoping John had something in his travel first aid kit. John didn’t and blamed it on the table, which coincidentally its corner was at the same height where the bruise is. Sherlock didn’t really buy it but John kept his mouth shut and Sherlock never found out where it came from.

During the cases following that, John had always found the opportunity to do the pinch, as if Sherlock had given him access on purpose. In hindsight, he might have done it, exposing his fine arse, but for a different reason - to seduce John.

Both times when John was caught, Sherlock never groaned and his body was stiff, except for the involuntary muscle flinching. The second time he even admitted that he was pretending so that he could ignore Lestrade.

John shifted his body a little to the side and pressed his groin onto Sherlock's forearm.

"Hey, I know you're not really in there."

"I wasn't staring. I was appreciating something beautiful." Sherlock said looking into John’s eyes.

"Would you like to see the rest?"

"Mmm. Yes."

Sherlock slouched into his chair while pulling John onto his lap. They spent the next 10 minutes snogging the daylight out of each other (or what was left of it) before a loud wheezing noise broke them apart.

"Looks like we have a guest."

"Ugh, brilliant." John rolled his eyes dramatically and Sherlock frowned underneath him. "Sherlock. You get the door. I need to shower and deal with _this_ ," John said while gesturing his erection tenting up his pants.

While his husband moved off his lap, a loud rap on the door broke Sherlock's focus on John's arse moving towards the bathroom.

 

"Hello Sherlock! I'm back!"

"Bad time, Doctor."

"Oh, bad time. Which time are you referring to? I was quite sure I've set the time in this universe straight. How badly was it behaving? Was I interrupting something? Am I an interruption? Interruption, funny word isn't it? But I like how it rolls off my tongue - _inte-rrrrr-uption_. See? See how nice it is to say it?"

Sherlock gave the Doctor a dramatic eye roll accompanied with a loud sigh in which The Doctor responded with a wide grin. Sherlock can only groan and let The Doctor in. His erection was making him an insufferable prick, even by The Doctor's standards. Reluctantly he showed The Doctor into the flat and sat on his chair while The Doctor sat on his table, swinging his legs back and forth. There was a time when Sherlock would be excited to see him, but not today, not when he was about to make love to his doctor after one whole month of abstinence.

 

###

 

The whole month after the wedding was gloomy, as if the criminal network in London was out to stop them from consummating their marriage. Lestrade and Mycroft had a case for them every other day, all at least a 6. Two weeks into the month, Sherlock had put down his feet and declared that he will not accept anything but a 9 or 10, that was it - until John forced them to take on a human trafficking ring, with an orphanage as a front. That case took them one week to solve, and while they were nearing the end, Mycroft came with a 10.

As much as Sherlock would like to spend some alone time with his husband, he couldn’t say no to a 10. The quicker he solves this, the sooner he can have John in bed. With that goal in mind, Sherlock solved the case in 129 hours, 2 boxes of Jaffa cakes, 421 cups of tea or coffee, and a total of 107 minutes in accidental power naps. John only recalled having ‘not enough’ of everything - not enough food, water and sleep; too much caffeine, sugar and yelling at each other. Sex was non-existent. At the end of day three, he blacked out thinking that both of them will die if Sherlock doesn’t crack the case now.

Sherlock cracked it just in the nick of time. As Mycroft took over the rest of the operation, Sherlock collapsed next to John on the sofa and they slept through the next 14 hours. They woke up in each other’s arms, aroused, but still too sluggish to do anything. John’s stomach growled and Sherlock’s followed shortly after. After staring at each other for a short while, they both got into the shower. John couldn’t wait any longer. Facing Sherlock, he wrapped his hands around both their lengths rubbing against each other. Hurriedly he tugged both of them into a long awaited orgasm. Sherlock’s knees gave in right when he came and John couldn’t see straight. They both agreed that they are too weak and tired at that moment, and should do more after dinner. After a quick shower, John ordered Chinese take away while Sherlock started the fire in the fireplace. Dinner arrived in 20 minutes. Sherlock and John couldn’t be bothered with niceties and ate out of the boxes with chopsticks and hands. They settled in their own chairs with a cup of tea, John with a medical journal and Sherlock re-cataloguing the case in his mind palace.

 

###

 

"Why are you here Doctor?"

"Nothing much, social calls. I like to see my friends once in awhile," The Doctor got a glare from Sherlock. Ignoring Sherlock, he twirled around, scanning the flat with the sonic screwdriver, "Just visiting. Not staying though, no. Definitely. Not. Staying."

"Lestrade kept us busy after you left. An alien invasion at our wedding, how _nice_!" John said sarcastically while bringing tea out from the kitchen. Both The Doctor and Sherlock are idiots when it came to social interactions, and the sarcasm completely flew over their heads. They both took turns explaining to John how 'not nice' that was, having Daleks yelling about and exterminating their wedding cake in the process. Mrs Hudson was really upset that the cake was ruined, more than the fact that she was almost killed at the wedding. Only when John pointed out that The Doctor is an alien and he was at the wedding, they both stared at each other and started laughing heartily.

It was nice, sitting in 221B with the man he loves and the man who loves them both, sipping tea and talking about the wedding.

"You are really lucky I didn't decide to pop out again from a cake. Rory was so angry!"

Sherlock had met Amy once back in the day. When she found out Sherlock was getting hitched, both her and Rory called, telling him all about the cake at Rory's stag night. Rory wasn't angry at The Doctor for jumping out of a cake, he was angry because he announced his little peck on the lips with Amy in front of his friends! Not that it mattered after their pre-honeymoon to ancient Venice and everything else that followed.

"Speaking of pre-honeymoon, it has been what? A month since the wedding? How are we getting along? Any honeymoon plans?"

“Nothing planned yet, but Sherlock wanted to visit Oak Ridge National Laboratory and see the Titan supercomputer, and a neutron-something facility.”

“The Spallation Neutron Source, dear John.”

“Yes, that. Well, Mycroft owes us a favour now. He can call ahead and arrange our visit.”

The Doctor cleared his throat at that comment and pointed to himself when his friends looked at him suspiciously.

“The Spallation Neutron Source is old technology, Sherlock. Want me to show you something better?” That was The Doctor’s way of saying _‘All of space and time is available right in front of you, and you want to see a stupid little facility?’_

John caught on immediately and his eyes twinkled. Since The Doctor told John about time travel, he never had the chance to go on the TARDIS. All he had were stories in Sherlock’s time travel diary. For many nights he had dreamt of going into space with Sherlock, drinking tea in a world with fishes swimming in the skies, sunbathing on a beach of rubies instead of sand, and having dinner with a view of seven moons. The Doctor’s last visit was cut short by Daleks invading the wedding, but he remembered The Doctor’s promise, giving them one trip to anywhere in space and time as their wedding gift. John was ready to claim that gift.

“The game is on, Sherlock. It is on! I am packing right now.”

“Where are we going, Doctor?” Sherlock asked as he followed John into their bedroom. John had already took out a duffle bag, stuffing both their clothes into it while humming the wedding song.

“Somewhere fun! Bring gloves if you have them. Don’t want you to get stung!” The Doctor shouted from the living room.

 

John packed three sets of clothes, their leather gloves and an extra pair of shoes for both himself and his husband. With everything packed neatly into two bags, they carried one bag each and dropped it next to the entrance of their living room. John held Sherlock’s hand and gave him a peck on the cheek before they trotted down excitedly into the street where the TARDIS was parked.

This will be John’s first time on the TARDIS. He held Sherlock’s hand tightly as he stepped in the door. His eyes were wide open, mouth gaped in wonder. Sherlock gently tugged his husband into the centre of the control room while The Doctor prepared for their trip.

“Now, yes doctor Watson, it is bigger on the inside. I am taking you both on a _honey_ -moon you will not forget.” The Doctor dragged out the word ‘honey’ as if to hint Sherlock where they were heading to.

John had never in a million years imagined something like this to be real. Although he had experienced some weird occurrences with The Doctor on Earth, he has never seen an alien (except The Doctor and the Daleks at their wedding), or travelled in time or space. Every single movement or light flickering drew his attention. His eyes were darting all over the room, trying to engrave as much as possible into his memory.

“John! Come here. Let me show you something.”

Sherlock led John through to the corridor, passing by the pool, libraries, and laboratories, detailing all his older adventures in the TARDIS to his husband but John couldn't pick up a word of it. Lastly they strode into John’s old room (the old Squash Court 7). Sherlock dropped their bags by the bed and held John in his arms. John was still in a daze, still wondering if he was dreaming. But he quickly realised that this is too advanced for his imagination and snapped out of his own head. He found himself held tight in Sherlock’s arms, face stuffed in his husband’s shoulder.

“Can’t breath, Sherlock.” The taller man lets go of him and apologised, placing a chaste kiss on his lips before pulling him out of the room and back into the corridors leading back into the control room.

“Doctor. Where-”

Before John could ask the question, The Doctor yelped, “Melissa Majoria! Home world of the [ Migrant Bees](http://tardis.wikia.com/wiki/Migrant_Bee). They are a sapient insectoid species, spent some time on Earth but they went home couple centuries ago. Oh! Before that, we need to make a stop at Darillium and make a dinner reservation.”

 

###

 

They spent half the day in Melissa Majoria. Half the time they were there, Sherlock pranced around in fields of flower, excited to see the original habitat of Migrant Bees. Fields of flowers stretched towards the horizon, and the entire planet was covered in tall stalks of flowers, bees as big as their faces.

“They won’t sting unless you plan to take one of them back for an experiment. Just walk freely, imagine you are one of them,” The Doctor said when he noticed John had a worried look on his face, “Some of them are bigger than you are, and no one ever visits, so they can’t really tell the difference.” That statement made John shudder. _Bees bigger than us and you want us to calm the fuck down?_

“Oh John, look at this beauty. Oh this is beautiful. Those proboscis- oh! They look much better than under the microscope!”

John couldn’t keep his eyes off Sherlock. He was like a five-year-old child opening Christmas presents in the middle of July. Sherlock spent a few hours looking at different species of bees, observing and making mental notes of their flight patterns, physical appearances and how different they are behaving in the wild. The Doctor caught up to them with mugs in one hand and a Thermos flask in the other.

“Tea?” How very British of them. Afternoon tea in Melissa Majoria in Andromeda Galaxy, two million light years away from Earth. They found a clearing in the field of flowers. John and Sherlock sat on a flat surfaced rock while The Doctor lay down on the grass. While they were discussing where to go next, John held out his phone and handed it to The Doctor.

“We need pictures. Doctor, could you?”

“Of course! Get closer now.”

“Make sure the bees are in it too.”

The Doctor took the photo. John and Sherlock in front of a field of flowers, bees buzzing busily above and behind them. Above them the skies were blue with a spot of cloud. John looked over at Sherlock smiling down looking at the photo. How can the world not see this? At that moment, John decided to write about their honeymoon on his blog, along with the photo. It’s about time the world realise what an amazing man Sherlock is.

After finishing the whole flask of tea, the trio went back on board the TARDIS. Sherlock’s face was slightly sunburnt. The Doctor handed them some yellowish goo and told them it will get rid of the burn in a couple of minutes. Sherlock took the jar and walked off to apply it. John quickly got The Doctor to help him with the internet, and uploaded the first part of their honeymoon onto his blog.

 

 

 

> **15 June 2014**
> 
> **The Honeymoon**
> 
> We are on our honeymoon!!! First stop - Melissa Majoris, courtesy of a great friend of ours, The Doctor! Bees bigger than us! Sherlock was excited, I was a little afraid for our lives, but all is well! We are moving on to another place soon. Just taking a break while Sherlock applies some goo for his sunburnt face. Lots of love from planet of the bees!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Another planet, this time for John.
> 
> Hopefully I will write it next week! xx


	9. The Wedding-Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sex on the TARDIS. You're welcome.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was inspired to write smut tonight. So the time travelling has been postponed to the next chapter.

While Sherlock was still buzzing (pun intended) from the first part of their honeymoon, John was knackered. They had left 221B at 10.22pm after dinner, and spent the past 8 hours chasing Sherlock around a field of flowers. The Doctor took a detour to Shanghai and bought everyone some authentic Chinese takeaway. As they had supper (or a very early breakfast), The Doctor showed Sherlock some documents he had kept about Migrant Bees, how they were classified on Earth as ‘extinct’ when they’ve actually just moved back to their home planet. The talk about extinction inspired John of their next destination.

“Would be amazing to see those extinct animals for real. If they actually exist. The Dodo bird, Pyrenean Ibex, Sea Mink.” John said while he lay his head down on Sherlock’s lap, stretching his body out horizontally.  


“Most of them died during the big flood, and yes, the flood did happen,” The Doctor caught Sherlock rolling his eyes in disbelief and smiled as he continued, “Just not how you humans said it did. It was way more interesting than an old man and his family leading animals into an ark two by two.”

“It is nothing more but a story, Doctor. I really don’t believe any of that fairy tale.” Sherlock whispered as he stroked John’s head, lulling him to sleep.

“Ah. Yes, what you’ve heard is a fairy tale, but there is always an origin to a story. In fact, I think your doctor might be interested in this one. Shall we save it for later?”

 

John’s light snores echoed through the TARDIS’ control room. Sherlock sat very still for another 15 minutes before he woke his husband up and led themselves back to their room. In the next four hours, John and Sherlock slept while The Doctor shopped for supplies in Tiaanamat’s market.

Sherlock woke up with his face buried in John’s head. His hands wrapped around John’s chest, one leg over his hips. He felt his own erection pressing hard against John’s bottom, wondering if John is awake. As that thought crossed his mind, John shifted slightly, yawned loudly and turned around facing Sherlock.

“Good morning, love. Did you sleep at all?”

“Woke up just minutes before you did.”

“You or your cock?”

Sherlock couldn’t find an answer to John’s sudden remark. He knows what John was implying. The look on his own face was sheer horror, as if he was a teenager caught masturbating in his own bedroom. John couldn’t believe how uncomfortable Sherlock is still about his morning wood, and started laughing while stroking Sherlock’s face.

“Sherlock, it’s okay. I’m hard too, look. It’s normal. I thought you would be used to it by now.” John held Sherlock’s wrist and pulled it down to his own erection, guiding the long fingers over his pants along his shaft. Sherlock let out a soft moan. John pushed himself a little apart from Sherlock and positioned himself on top of Sherlock. He slid a hand gently up his husband’s leg, leaving it gently resting on his hip. 

 

Sherlock sighed and drew breath. He felt a finger gently stroke under his chin then move slowly down tracing a line bisecting his chest, traversing his navel then with the other finger of John’s hand took hold of his cock. He felt the warm breath of John’s mouth as it lowered itself towards him. He waited, and a gentle kiss met the top of his rock solid cock, then another part way down the shaft, then another a little further before the kisses started to move up again. Sherlock’s cock throbbed and twitched with each kiss and his cock was starting to ache. John repeated this foreplay three times before he took the cock inside his mouth.

Sherlock jerked his hips upwards when John took his cock into his mouth. It was warm and comfortable, as if the space had been specially designed for it. John’s tongue was exploring and teasing at the same time. He placed his hands on top of John’s head, running his fingers through his soft ash brown hair then holding him in place. But John was going nowhere, the union of Sherlock’s cock and his mouth was not going to cease. Then a new sensation, one of even greater sensual perfection as John began to gently nibble Sherlock’s foreskin.

He was being transported to a place he had not before known existed, a place he did not ever want to leave. Sherlock tried to hold back from coming but he knew he would not be able to hold out for much longer.

“John… stop… too close!” John began to suck on Sherlock’s cock even harder, drawing breath from his mouth and tightening his lips. Sherlock would have been content to lay there all day and night while John’s mouth did its work but he could control himself no longer, a volcanic explosion of hot manhood erupted into John’s mouth.

John quickly pulled down his pants and drooled Sherlock’s semen into it. He stroked Sherlock’s stomach a few times while he lifted himself off the bed to rinse his mouth and quickly washed his pants in the sink. Coming back to bed he found Sherlock breathing hard, splayed across the bed on his back. He sat at the edge of the bed, allowing Sherlock a few minutes to catch his breath.

 

“I need to start you on a diet of nothing but fruits. And you need to cut down on caffeine and cigarettes. It makes your semen taste horrible!”

“I don’t smoke any more, John. We had asparagus in our last four meals. I suppose yours won’t taste any better.”

John lay himself beside Sherlock in silence, a comfortable silence that lasted a couple of minutes until Sherlock spoke.

“I’m sorry. I did enjoy that very much. Thank you.” Sherlock lifted his head up and turned over to give John a kiss. From a peck on his lips, it quickly turned into a deep heated kiss, tongue swirling in each other’s mouths, biting and teasing lips. John broke their kiss apart and Sherlock whispered the last articulate words heard on that bed that day.

“I want you to fuck me deep, dear husband.”

John’s vision blurred upon hearing those words. The last time they had penetrative sex was before the wedding, and this would be their first time as husbands. Sherlock was rarely this affectionate, but when he is, he tips the scale off and turns into a feral sex machine. 

John flipped Sherlock around to prepare him. He floated the palm of his hands across Sherlock’s bottom then slid his fingers between his cheeks. They penetrated ever so slightly then rested with the tip of each digit held by Sherlock’s tight buttocks. There was pleasure sending electrical pulses down each of John’s finger, shock waves which set his heart pounding and adrenaline pumping for what was to come. Sherlock stretched his arm across to the bedside table and fumbled in the top drawer, holding out a bottle of lube like the Olympic torch.

John drizzled a generous amount of lube on his hand, warming the cold fluid. Sherlock parted his cheeks and John gently teased one finger on his hole, slowly easing his finger in until his whole digit is deep in Sherlock. He wriggled his finger in Sherlock’s tight heat, feeling the twitches as he brushed against the prostate. Feeling that Sherlock had relaxed a little, he pulled his finger halfway out and probed in a second finger. John repeated the motion until he had three fingers thrusting smoothly in and out Sherlock’s hole.

John slicked his own cock and pulled out his fingers. Sherlock’s body was relaxed, but his buttocks were clenched tight at the loss of John’s fingers. He dropped his shoulders down onto the bed, knees parting a little more and stretched his hands behind to part his cheeks wider than before. His face was on its side, looking up at John, pleading him to hurry up.

John’s cock slid inside Sherlock as once again they unified their bodies and souls as husbands. Few years ago, John would have never considered himself to be gay and married to a man. In fact, he doesn't think he's gay at all. While sex with another man is absolutely mind blowing, he could not imagine it with anyone other than his high functioning sociopathic consulting detective, Sherlock Watson-Holmes. It will always and only be Sherlock.  


As John pushed deeper, Sherlock pushed back to him, the contours of his groin took in the peaches of Sherlock’s bottom. John thrust hard a few times before pulling Sherlock up from the bed. Sherlock took the hint and let John lay down. He slowly drew his hips back before sinking them down, filling up his inside with John’s whole length. They both moaned softly into each other’s mouths as Sherlock started to ride harder. The sensation was incredible. Sherlock slid John’s cock back and forth, taking the whole length in long slow movements, withdrawing it until only the tip of the head remained inside and then sliding it balls deep back into his tight hole.

Sherlock tightened his muscles and felt John’s cock twitched a little inside. They both groaned at that sensation and John held onto Sherlock, holding him in place. Sherlock repeated and John thrust up faster and faster, fucking Sherlock properly. Their foreheads were resting on each other and John gazed deeply into Sherlock’s green-blue eyes, seeing every ounce of pleasure reflected in them, and amazed that he could be causing it.

 

They want this to last forever.

 

Sherlock lifted his torso up a little and grasped at his cock, already hard again and leaking profusely. He tightened his own grip on his cock and stroked hard as John fucked him. His movements furious, his foreskin a blur, his breath was warm against John’s neck. John moaned softly as he gripped Sherlock’s hips and began to fuck him harder and deeper.

“Mmm-- close-- ah!” Sherlock whispered.

“Yes... me too,” John replied.

“Inside.” Sherlock pleaded, and before John could say another word, he pushed his head back into the bed and let out an uncontrollable groan. He was thrusting hard and deep into Sherlock, two, three, four times, moaning Sherlock’s name again and again, hands gripping tight against his husband’s cheeks, pulling him deeper. He felt his cock explode inside Sherlock, squirting shot after shot. Sherlock was only a few strokes behind John, but his eyes shot wide open as he felt John coming in him. Sherlock’s mouth parted letting out a little moan of shock and lust. John pushed a few more times deep into Sherlock, riding out his own orgasm and hitting Sherlock’s prostate, driving Sherlock into another orgasm.

John had seen Sherlock come many times before, but he was always amazed. This time it was even hotter sight than usual. His come flew out hitting John on the chin, the top of his chest and one shot landed powerfully directly on John’s Adam’s apple. John’s breathing was deep and ragged at the sight of Sherlock’s orgasm, not to mention the tightening of Sherlock’s hole around his already pulsing cock.

He puckered his lips and Sherlock met them for a gentle kiss, before his eyes were squeezing tight shut. Rocking back and forth, Sherlock milked the last drips out of John’s aching cock. His head was so sensitive, his body shuddered when his softening cock popped out of Sherlock. Sherlock rested his whole body weight down on John, hearing his breathing still fast next to his ear. His own breathing was heavy and gasping for breath. They both closed their eyes and stayed in each other’s embrace, enjoying the afterglow of their orgasm.

 

When John opened his eyes, Sherlock was staring into them. They shared a kiss, soft and tender again now, the animalistic instincts gone. When they made love, time took on an entirely different dimension. It is unlikely that the TARDIS would bother to manipulate time in that room, but the thought of it made John grin. Sherlock smiled back at him, neither of them able to stop the huge grin spreading across their faces. Sherlock moved to John’s side, and the smaller man wrapped his arms around the detective’s body so they were spooning.

“I wish we could stay like this forever,” John murmured softly.

“Me too, but The Doctor has something planned for you.”

They snuggled closer together beneath the covers, legs entwined and naked bodies pressed against each other. It felt perfect.

“Ten minutes?”

“Yes please.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: The Doctor really takes them somewhere. I promise.
> 
> Edit: I'm stuck. I think the adventures will take on another series. Had fun writing smut, hope you've enjoyed it!


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